


IF YOU KILLED SOMEONE FOR ME

by Broken_souls



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Attempted Murder, Awesome Molly Hooper, Character Death, Dark Molly Hooper, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Jim is Bored, Minor Character Death, Molly Hooper Appreciation, References to Depression, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock is a Brat, Substance Abuse, ignore season 4, murder seems like the best choice, this is what quarantine looks like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23778883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_souls/pseuds/Broken_souls
Summary: In which Molly Hooper contacts her ex-boyfriend hoping he would get rid of someone for her.
Relationships: Molly Hooper & Meena (Sherlock), Molly Hooper & Sebastian Moran, Molly Hooper/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper
Comments: 71
Kudos: 182





	1. Bohemian Rhapsody

**Author's Note:**

> I have been listening to the Cell Block Tango on repeat while writing this, don't judge me.
> 
> English is not my first language so British and American English are hard to distinguish and usually I don't give a damn about which one I'm using, but this is Sherlock so I've really tried to make it British, If there are any grammar mistakes or American Slang that doesn't fit, feel free to let me know so I can fix it. 
> 
> I don't know why but I love shipping Moriarty and Molly so this is my contribution to it, I've already made a one-shot of this ship but I wanted to do something longer in this case. I will not update often but I asure you the chapters will be long. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Bye!

(1x01)—BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY  
 _"Mama, just killed a man"_

Forensic examination by Molly Hooper. 7:42 p.m. St. Bartholomew's Hospital, morgue.

She wrote it down in her fancy little handwriting. On the table there was a dead woman, sixty-one, waiting to be opened with a scalpel and an electric bone saw. Her name was Willa Lewis, née Taylor, she read the name out loud. "Well... Hello, Willa. Nice meeting you, I guess you had a bad day, me too. There's this man called Sherlock, I love him but sometimes he's just...so rude towards me. You know what I mean?"

The defenestrated dead woman responded with a blunt silence. She was dead after all. 

"I don't know what I'm doing- or what should I do for the same matter. I'm a fool, aren't I?" Willa Lewis silence was all Molly could get out of her (besides her lungs that now rested on her hands ready for testing, but that was besides the point), although she could imagine what she would say if she wasn't dead. Molly didn't have enough friends to share her fears and concerns so the company of the dead was quite delightful to her. They didn't ignore her, like Sherlock. They didn't pity her, like John. And, of course, they didn't manipulate her like Jim had. They just stood there in silence while she cut them open.

Mrs. Lewis had been a smoker since she was fifteen, she had stopped abruptly in fear it would kill her before she got the chance to meet her grandchildren. In the end, it had been her husband and not nicotine what had killed her. Molly tried not to smile at the irony, not that there was anyone there to notice her smile. She could imagine the woman's voice talking to her, tremulous and smoky, with a hint of kindness."Forget about ungrateful boys, you are worth so much more."

Her words would only speak the truth. A good advice neither Molly nor Mrs. Lewis had ever followed. After all Mrs. Lewis had been unintentionally murdered by her ungrateful husband who pushed her too hard during an argument making her fall through the window towards an awful death. Her skull was fragmented and there was severe brain damage. Poor Willa.

The cause of death was obvious, the landing after falling of a sixth floor. But she was doing the autopsy anyway, she had learned from Sherlock sometimes things aren't as they seem and that was what had led her to spent Friday's evening doing an scrupulous autopsy. Her commitment towards her work was just a way to keep her mind busy and forget, even if it was just for a while, the recent events that had occurred on her life. Not everyday you find out your late boyfriend is a criminal mastermind and a murderer who only used you as a means to an end. At this point Molly blamed herself for not seeing it coming. She was in love with a sociopath, feeling attracted to a psychopath shouldn't surprise her that much. Molly guessed that was her type, arseholes who love murder a little too much.

Molly filed the autopsy report, nothing seemed to stand out, no anomaly. The next morning Mrs. Lewis daughter would come with the funeral service to take her body, Molly hoped she would choose a closed casket. Mrs. Lewis could have been very beautiful, Molly couldn't really tell with her head smashed like that.

"Good night, Willa. It was nice meeting you, although the circumstances could have been better." She covered her body with a blanket and took her belongings before leaving. Toby was waiting for her at home, she was the only male who hadn't disappointed her and he was just a cat. She took a short shower, her body smell of disinfectant and blood after work, she had grown used to it but it usually ruined her dates. That was another warning sign she should have noticed while dating Jim, he told her she smelled _lovely_. What a creep.

Bored and with not much to do, Molly microwaved some leftovers and turned on her computer. She could spend the rest of the evening watching Glee but whatever charm the tv show had had, disappeared when Jim left. Now she couldn't even stand it. She could have spent the rest of the evening watching cat videos on Youtube but instead she googled her newest friend's name. "Willa Lewis.... Let's see."

The first result was a Facebook account, her daughter's.

 _Maggie Lewis, twenty-four, in a relationship with Aaron Walker, works at_ _Nando's_. It amazed her how many private information people shared on the internet. She had had a personal blog not so long ago, now that blog made her feel stupid, sharing too much personal information was what had made Moriarty choose her as a pawn on his twisted game. Molly kept reading. _Currently following Willa's Little Florist's Shop_.

"A florist! It's fits Willa." Or it fit her mind version of Willa, the one with the good advice and smoky voice. Her daughter had posted a picture of her parents, Willa and Joe, some months ago for their thirty year anniversary. They looked happy. She was beautiful and her smile was bright and sincere, she was hugging her husband who looked at her with devotion. Sherlock would have been able to see a thousand details Molly didn't notice: an ink stain, a nicotine patch, something reflecred on his glasses, a tensed arm, and the symptoms of a severe heart disease. But she was not a genius like him so she only took notice of how lovely the married couple was.

"Toby, please!" The cat sat on the keyboard making it difficult for her to open the tab of _Willa's Little Florist's_ _Shop_ Facebook account. It was Willa and her husband's business, she guessed now it was their daughter's. Without even realising Molly fell asleep with Toby purring on her lap and her computer on with Willa's smiling picture on the screen.

* * *

Maggie Lewis didn't look like someone who worked at Nando's, she looked like a bully, like the ones who laughed at her for always doing the homework and for never going to any parties. Her hair was ginger, like her mother's had been before turning gray, and she wore red lipstick, too bright for someone who was glancing at her mother's dead body. She was eating gum. "It's a tragedy, isn't it?"

"Yes, at least she had a happy life." She said without grief or sorrow on her voice. Maggie was impetuous, overconfident, and oddly apathethic. _Bohemian Rhapsody_ started to sound, Maggie started searching on her pockets and inside her purse looking for her phone while Molly looked at her awkwardly. It reached the fourth sentence of the first verse ( _Mama, life had just begun~_ ) when Maggie finally answered.

"What do you want? -No I'm not busy now." Molly looked at the funeral service staff, two corpulent men who seemed as uncomfortable as her. They just wanted to take the body and do their job but Maggie seemed oblivious to their discomfort, so she kept chewing her gum loudly. "What? No, I want the name changed by tomorrow. Remember, red and egg white- No, not white, egg white. No, Peter, they are not the same."

The funeral service men, tired of waiting, made signals in silence to ask Maggie if they could take the body, she nodded and they did as told. Now Molly was alone with her. _"Maggie's_ _Little Florist's Shop_. Yes, as it sounds, do I have to write ir down for you?- Times New Roman. If tomorrow I find out you have used Helvetica you're dead. Yes, yes, I miss you too. Bye."

She hanged with a sight and Molly felt the strange need to speak to her, even if it was awkward. "So, thought day at work?"

"More like incompetent co-workers. I own a small business, a Florist's shop, and I'm trying to make some changes, -you know- create a new image for my brand. But it turns out changing the business name takes a lot of legal action." Her voice was soft and confident, maybe a little too confident. Molly had that effect on people, she had those big lamb eyes and a inherited nervousness, she looked harmless and helpless. And Maggie was too prideful to even consider someone might doubt her father to be guilty of her mother's murder. The phone started to ring again, Queen echoed through the morgue and this time, after not recognising the ID, Maggie decided it was better to answer outside so she left without even bothering to say goodbye to Molly.

Molly stood there with her mouth open like a fish out of water, with fear and with the certain she had just talked to a murderer.

* * *

Joe Lewis died of a heart attack in prison earlier that day, but, of course, Molly had no way to know that.

His family had a medical record of heart disease and the doctor had adviced him to keep stress balance, a hard task for a sixty years old man waiting for a trial in which he would have had a twelve years penalty. He already knew he would not live that long but Joe hadn't expected it to happen so soon, so suddenly. While Maggie talked with the prison staff on her phone Molly took a cab towards the only people who could help her, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. "221B Baker Street, please."

"Aye, lassy. Be thare in five." The cabbie said with hard to ignore Scottish accent, but somehow Molly was completely oblivious to it, too busy thinking about her dear friend Willa and her horrendous death. The matricide nature of the case made it even worst. She could picture Mrs. Lewis wrinkled and still beautiful face from the pictures she'd seen on Facebook looking at her with sadness and a tiny bit of regret.

"Well, you know what they say, dear Molly. _Raise ravens, and they'll gouge your eyes out_." Her smoky voice again echoed on her mind. Molly knew it was very unlikely Willa would use that slang or even know it's existence, she knew it because of Meena. She had told her once she had learned Spanish at school, two years of it, but the only thing she could remember was how to say ' _hola'_ , ' _gracias_ ', ' _dame más alcohol'_ , and also the slang Willa used on Molly's mind. Meena had taught her how to say it in Spanish but Molly couldn't remember. It didn't matter anyway, she had just arrived Baker Street. 

"Thenk ye." He said after she paid. She stood in front of the door, the knocker was sightly askew to the right and there was some dirt on the lower side of the door. John had kicked it before leaving the building -he always did that when he was annoyed, old habit. If she had been Sherlock Holmes she would had seen this and so much more, she would have known Sherlock was home, he had a client, and Mrs. Hudson was on her flat making tea. But she was not Sherlock Holmes, she was just Molly Hooper and the only thing she could she was a door.

She knocked twice and Mrs. Hudson's sweet smile welcomed her inside. "Hello, dear, Sherlock is upstairs with a client. I'm making tea, do you want some while you wait?"

"Yes- uh. Yes, please." She said shyly and unsure. Mrs. Hudson kitchen was small and cold, but lovely nevertheless. She could have seen how much Mrs. Hudson cared for her and for the boys, if she bothered to look. Sherlock's tea, John's favourite homemade biscuits, and, of course, the offer to let Molly stay with her despite how much her hip hurt. Mrs. Hudson was truly the best.

Willa's kitchen wouldn't be too different from Mrs. Hudson, maybe a little bigger. Molly knew it was odd to be friends with a sixty-one years old dead woman whose brains had looked like jelly when she first saw her, but she was sad and lonelier that she admitted herself to be and maybe Jim -or Sherlock- had been the last straw. Or Molly might have also realised Willa and her weren't so different after all, Mrs. Lewis had been older and wiser, but like her, she had also been too kind to people who hadn't earned it. Her daughter, for instance. "Molly, is everything alright? I've been talking to you for twenty minutes now and you have barely even blinked."

"Yes, well, no. It's just,- It's something I need to discuss with Sherlock. Do not worry." The smile she put on her face while talking wasn't very convincing, she drank her tea at once unsatisfied with it's taste, she had forgotten to add sugar and milk. She said her good-byes to Mrs. Hudson before heading upstairs. Client be damned.

She needed to tell Sherlock about Willa, about Maggie and Joe, and she needed to do it because Willa was just like her, one of those people who doesn't count. So when they die, no-one cares. She opened the door without knocking, _first mistake_. "Sherlock I- Oh my God, you're naked."

"I'm not naked, I'm wearing a blanket." And he was indeed wearing a blanket, a white one to be precise. But it wasn't very opaque and, well, Sherlock was naked underneath. Even Molly had been able to figure that out. Her mouth was ajar and whatever words she had been thinking of saying remained unspoken. "I- I just."

"Be quiet, I'm on a case." He hadn't even looked at her. The sudden shock of watching Sherlock almost naked in front of her took its time to disappear. Sherlock enjoyed the silence, the obese porn addict who sat on a chair in the middle of the room not so much. She started playing with her hands, she was nervous, embarrassed and overwhelmed by the whole situation. "Sherlock, look. I just- I, I need your help for a case."

"If it's anything higher that a six I'm all ears. If not, you know where the door is." He was too arrogant and maybe even heartless. Molly should already be used to it, but somehow she wasn't. So she pressed her lips tight aware that Sherlock would not help her. Willa's death was not higher than a six, it wasn't even a two. It was just a simple murderer, out of love, money, hate, or the three of above. No, Molly didn't need his help to solve the case, she needed him to make people believe her, because she didn't matter and niether did her words.

She couldn't go to Scotland Yard and tell Greg she knew Maggie Lewis had murderer her mother because she felt it on her guts. What would she even tell to them? She was too quiet while seeing the body and she changed the family business name maybe a little too soon? No-one would believe her. but if it was Sherlock Homes who said those words Greg, John, and whoever was around would call him brilliant. Molly tried not to cry. "Sherlock, I- There's this woman who died after being defenestrated, her husband was the one who called the ambulance. He confessed the accidental homicide and was sent to jail. I- I think it was their daughter who killed her, she has inherited her mother's business-"

"Move the computer, I need to see the grass." He was talking to John on the computer, he wasn't even listening, the only one who paid attention to her was the low self-esteem stranger. Her throat felt tight and she found it impossible to keep speaking. "Are you even listening to me?"

"It's boring. There's no mystery to solve, go to Jeff and let him handle it." He said with apathy, not an intentional one, he was just too busy thinking to notice the consequences of her words. Molly was crying silently hoping Sherlock would not notice, he did not. She left the building as fast as she could, Sherlock took notice of her while she walked down the stairs. He knew he had hurted her, he just couldn't seem to understand how or why. He had just been talking, but then again, most of his problems always begun with him talking.

Molly stood on the sidewalk crying, not moving or doing anything besides crying. She imagined Willa's kind smile directed towards her, telling her not to let him get under her skin. But that only made her cry more. She couldn't just go to Lestrade and tell him without any real proves, that she was completely sure Maggie Lewis had murdered her mother. She went back home devastated, not even Toby's lovely company could make the pain on her chest go away. She opened a can of Cat Food and put it on Toby's bowl, he ate it satisfied. Molly sat on her sofa and cried for a while. Willa hadn't deserved to die, the same way Molly hadn't deserved Sherlock's cruel remarks, but there were they. At least Molly wasn't dead. "Toby, stop!"

She said trying to make him stop biting the computer charger, but that only made him bite faster. Toby, as charming as he was, had the horrible tendency to bite every cable he found and sice Molly had forgotten to put the charger back in a drawer, now it was full of Toby's little bitemarks. She would need to buy a new one.

The computer was still on since last night, with the same tabs opened. It was then when Molly saw Maggie's last updated of her Facebook acount, she was smiling brightly in the Florist's Shop while holding a bouquet of white tulips. She seemed more than happy, she seemed delighted, she seemed so pleased with the fact her mother, and now also her father, were dead. Molly stopped crying, frustration and desolation started to grow inside her, like a plague. And when Molly thought she would start crying again until she fell asleep she noticed it, a picture posted on 2008 of Maggie in front of a small house, Molly read the comment under the picture out loud, at one point her voice cracked. " _Finally managed to get a house on my own!! So excited! No more sharing an apartment although I might let you have a drawer @Aaron_Wlkr_."

They were many emojis Molly didn't bother to mention, but it was not the comment nor the picture what had caught her attention, it was what it could be seen if someone bothered to observe. She could see the house number just besides Maggie's face, 302, and, on the back, Molly could distinguish the street's name. She smiled. 302 Bancroft Rd, Mile End. Funny how many personal things people share on the internet.

* * *

Willa's cacoethes had been smoking, Molly's, on the other hand, had always been helping others no matter the price she had to pay for it. She was trying to bring justice to Willa, she had good intentions, she surely did. But hell is full of people with good intentions.

She was being stupid and naïve, she already knew that. 'Little Miss Perfect', as her colleagues called her, had disappeared and a little mouse had taken her place. So small, so scared, and yet, so brave.

That had been her _second mistake_ , believing her braveness and good intentions would save her. She knocked at the door at least three times before someone answered, after spending most of her day weeping and barely eating Molly was exhausted. The sun was setting when the door opened. Maggie narrowed her eyes trying to remember where she had seen Molly before. "May I help you?"

"Uh, yes. I'm a pathologist, -I, I work with the police, ehm. I want to talk to you about Willa Lewis' death." Molly was thankful it was not raining or snowing since that was very usual in England during December. Still, it was freezing cold outside and the cabbie that had brought her there had already left. Maggie's jaw tightened, without saying a word she invited Molly inside. Her house was luxurious, like one out of a design magazine, perfect for posting pictures of it on Facebook. There were some fish and chips on the coffee table, the telly was on mute, and the knife and fork she had been using for eating rested on the sofa on top of a napkin. "I didn't get your name."

"Molly Hooper." She said trying not to sound nervous but she failed to do so and it made her feel even more nervous. Her hands were sweating and she had no idea what to say next, she hadn't thought about it. She had searched the address on Google and she had planed how to get there, but what would she say to Maggie? 'I know you murdered your mother, why don't we have a cuppa?' No, that wouldn't work. "I know you murdered your mother."

"I'm sorry, what?" Maggie's face was paler than usual and her face expression which always reminded Molly of her childhood bullies turned into one of fear. She was scared of _her_ , no-one had ever been scared of her. It felt weird.

Molly had been too blunt, something Sherlock would do but not her. She tried to think what he would do or say on her situation. Well, he obviously would start by insulting Maggie but Molly wasn't about to do so anytime soon. Instead she recalled all the data she knew. As poor as it was, it could still be useful. She was still shaking because of the cold, she tried to sound more confident than she was. "You said earlier the Florist's Shop was yours, it's not. It's your mother's. You thought since your father had confessed no-one would notice but you were sloppy, you should be more careful with the things you say and the pictures you post. You killed you mother in order to inherit her business, she wanted you to earn it, didn't she? That's why she made you work at Nando's. You pushed her and your father took the blame to protect his only daughter."

She was just guessing, she didn't really know what had happened, it was just a presumption. But Maggie's icy stare told her she wasn't exactly wrong. What Molly hadn't expected was Maggie openly accepting her defeat. Maggie took a pack of gum out of her pocket and started chewing loudly. "Yes, I killed her. It was an accidental, of course, but I thought I wouldn't be able to get the inherence if I confessed. I guess that doesn't matter now. My father had a severe heart disease, he accepted the blame knowing he would not live long."

The sound her mouth made while chewing was disgusting, Molly tried and failed to ignore it. She couldn't understand how Maggie could talk with so much apathy about murdering Willa, her lovely friend Willa whose smashed skull will always remain in Molly's memory, like a nightmare you can't erase. Molly's legs were shaking.

Molly saw a flash of emotion, it was not guilt or regret, it was annoyance. She was annoyed by having gotten caught. "I almost succeed... Almost."

"I'm going to call the police now, they'll know what to do." Molly's lamb eyes and her wheezy voice made Maggie glance at her, she was short and small, she was shaking. And she was not a police officer. Maggie recalled Molly's words. "What did you say- you're not from Scotland Yard?"

"Well, I-" Molly's inherited nervousness stroke again, this time making Maggie Lewis burst into laughter. She thought Molly was pathetic. She wandered around the room with the confidence that had disappeared while she thought she was going to get arrested back. "In that case I'm going to have to ask you to leave my house."

"What? But you've just confessed murdering you mother!" She should have recorded the conversation but she hadn't thought about, she had been stupid not to think about it. Maggie kept chewing, and chewing, and chewing. Molly couldn't stand it. Maggie smiled arrogantly. "If you don't want to leave then I'll be the one who calls Scotland Yard. I'll very gladly explain to them how a complete stranger came to my house in the middle of the night, made me believe she was a police officer and accused me of murdering my _own_ mother. You are in a mess, Molly Hooper."

Her words were comminatory but the only thing Molly could hear was the noise of the gum being chewed. It was like a rat eating rubbish, at least it sounded like one. Molly would have compared Maggie to a rat, but that would have been offensive for the rats. "So? Are you leaving or not?"

"I-No. I don't think I will leave." She was being intransigent but that was the only thing she could do, stay and wait. She couldn't just let Maggie go free after listening to her confession but she also couldn't force her to go to Scotland Yard, she was too weak to do so, both physically and emotionally. Molly wanted to cry but she would not do so, not in front of Maggie. "Listen here, you bitch. Leave my bloody house now or you will regret it! Now!"

Maggie stood in front of her, she was taller and stronger, she looked like someone who went to the gym twice a week only to post about it on Facebook. Molly flinched but she didn't move nor talk. She could only think about Willa, her wrinkled smile and her kind eyes. "Maybe- You should confess, I- The police will talk to your father and they will discover the truth."

"Good luck with that. He died this morning of a heart attack." Both her parents had died because of her and Maggie couldn't get herself to care. Molly thought about the picture she had seen on Facebook of Joe and Willa, they had looked so happy. She tried not to cry, she really did, but she could barely see with the tears in her eyes. Maggie laughed at her. "What are you going to do now? What are you going to do Molly Hooper? Eh? -I could kill you right now and you would just stand there and let me, because you don't even have the bollocks to defend yourself. You're pathetic."

Maggie got closer, she was angry and violent. Molly felt overwhelmingly aware of her surroundings but at the same time she could only think about very concrete things: the telly on mute, Maggie's disgusting way to chew gum, Sherlock's cruelty towards her, Jim's psychopathic behaviour which had caused her endless nightmares, and Willa's kind words. She was distressed, furious, frustrated, and exhausted, she could not think clearly. She pushed Maggie, she fell and hit her head with the luxurious coffee table.

"Bloody hell! You're mad!" She was bleeding but she didn't seem to care. Maggie was a bully after all, and bullies do not simply let someone they considere weaker than them attack them without making them pay for it. Molly's legs were shaking, she fell to the sofa and grabbed whatever was near to defend herself. She was terrified.

"You are dead, you hear me?!" Impetuously, Maggie rushed towards Molly with the clear intention of killing her with her own bare hands. She should have thought twice. She should have noticed Molly had taken the knife she had left on the sofa to protect her, she should have thought that Molly was a pathologist, she knew where to cut. If she had just used her brain she wouldn't have died.

Maggie fell on to Molly, she grabbed the knife tighter in an unconscious action and stabbed her neck. She knew where to stab, the carotid artery. She had seen it a thousand times in the morgue. The small wound, the blood, the quick death. Molly had never expected herself to cause one.

Molly stood there. She could have tried to add pressure to the wound, she could have called an ambulance, but she couldn't think nor act. She stood petrified watching how Maggie Lewis bleed to death. _Bohemian Rhapsody_ started to sound in the background, Molly's hands were bloody. The knife fell from her hand. She cried.

(Mama, just killed a man  
Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead~)

Molly cried while Maggie's phone kept ringing, she screamed and begged, she poked and tried to clean the blood of her hands. _Oh my God, there was so many blood_. She went outside, it had started pouring but the cold made her awake -as if she had been dreaming- and understand the consequences of her actions. Molly was trying to understand how she had endend up in that horrible situation. She had gone to see Sherlock, _first mistake_. She had gone to Maggie's house, _second mistake_. She had killed her, _third mistake_. And now, Molly was about to make her _fourth_ and most fatal mistake. She took her mobile phone out of her pocket and called Sherlock.

She was weeping and shaking and her mind couldn't work properly, she needed help, she needed to fix this. Somehow. Anyhow. Sherlock didn't answer, she tried again. Whoever had called Maggie tried again, Freddie Mercury's voice started to sound once again and Molly cried louder. Queen kept playing even after Molly resigned herself. Sherlock would not answer.

She did not matter, she never had. She was searching in her contact list without knowing what she was looking for. Someone who could help her, someone besides Sherlock who could get her out of this mess. The blood started to get washed away by the rain. She could barely use her mobile phone, her hands were shaking too much. Nobody could help her, not even- she stoped suddenly her train of thought and focused on the name on the screen.

Jim (from IT).

* * *

There's nothing as delightful as death, or at least that was Jim's opinion. A man was weeping in front of him and begging while bleeding slowly and painfully. Then, he died suddenly. Lucky fellow.

His phone started to ring at the beat of the Bee Gees. He didn't bothered to look at the ID before answering, he thought it was Adler. His eyes widened sightly when he heard Molly's shaking voice. " _Jim_?"

"Oh, Molly, did you miss me that much?" He couldn't deny he was surprised, he would have never expected her to call him after what he had done to her. But Molly Hooper was full of surprises. He only hoped she would not bore him with this phonecall, if she did, he would kill her.

"I- I need your help. -Please. _Oh my God_ , I don't know what to do- I, It's just- _please_ , come. I'm at 302, Bancroft Rd, Mile End. Please, Jim." She was crying, she couldn't help it. Whoever was calling Maggie didn't seem to have any intention to stop and the beautiful music turned into a painful cacophony when Molly thought about the still warm dead boy that laid on the floor. It was raining so hard Molly could hardly hear him speak. " _Molly_ , _Molly_ , _Molly_...Do you _really_ still believe I'm the nice guy from IT? Don't be stupid."

"I'm fully aware of who you are, thank you. Now, _please_ , -help me." She knew who he was. There was no Jim from IT, his sweet and shy voice was now emotionless on the phone, Molly knew _exactly_ who he was. James Moriarty, the criminal mastermind, the monster, the devil. And yet she was asking for his help, Jim felt suddenly intrigued by her.

He didn't take longer than ten minutes to arrive there, one of his man was driving, he got out of the car and held an umbrella for him, he didn't want to ruin his expensive suit. Molly was in front of the door, she was sitting on the floor, no longer crying but completely terrified of her own actions. What would Willa think of her?

Moriarty analysed her the same way Molly analyzed dead bodies in the morgue, scrupulously. She had been crying for a while, she was unable to maintain eye contact, she could barely speak... Her hands were clean but there was blood on her clothes and under her fingernails. Jim smiled.

"Oh, my. You look like you just _killed_ someone, -oh, _wait_. You did, didn't you?" He laughed, Molly didn't. Maggie's phone started to ring again, this time it had been twelve minutes since the last time it rang, Molly flinched when she heard that song again, she started to cry.

"I-I didn't mean to. She attacked me and I was scared and I had a knife and then I, and then I- Help me, please." James Moriarty was a genius but not even him had expected something like this to happen. It wouldn't really surprise him if Sherlock killed someone, or John, or even Lestrade, for the same matter. Even the drug dealer's widow would be capable of doing such thing. But Molly Hooper? No, Molly Hooper wouldn't even hurt a fly. Or would she? Now Moriarty was eager to find out.

"Best. Christmas. Ever."


	2. Peter Pan

(1x02)- PETER PAN  
(All children, except one, grow up.)

For an instant, Molly Hooper thought it had been her and not Maggie Lewis the one who had been murdered.

She woke up on a bathtub, unable to move. She felt dead, maybe she was. There was blood on her hands and on the floor, she could smell it, she could also smell the disgusting stink of poke, someone had vomited, had it been her? No, she was dead, wasn't she? But there was no wound, she was not bleeding, it wasn't her blood.

Molly sighed relieved. She tried to get up and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Maybe she wasn't dead but she surely looked like one. She felt sick and her skin was boiling. At some point she had passed out, the shock, exhaustion, dehydration and the cold she had probably caught, had been the reasons why Molly looked worst than some people in the morgue. Her clothes still smelled of blood but she didn't even notice, she opened the bathroom door, Toby was waiting outside. Molly fell to the ground and passed out again.

The next time Molly woke up she was sure she wasn't dead, her body hurt too much to be dead. Her clothes were sweaty and her throat was sore. After defervescence she was able to think straight and recall all events that had suddenly happened in her usually boring life. _She had killed someone._

She had killed someone and it had been _easy_. That was what scared her the most. It had happened so fast, so suddenly that Molly felt as if all had been a nightmare, but the blood on her hands -hard to wash- was enough proof to know she had done it, she had killed Maggie Lewis.

"Oh, dear Molly. What have you done?" Willa's voice was kind, but there was a hint of fear. Molly cried. She ate something she found in the fridge and took some ibuprofen and then she cried again. Saturday became Sunday and while the symptoms of the cold became more tolerable, her mind became the source of all sorrow. Then, she started taking sleeping pills and anxiolytics, they made her feel numb and gave her headaches but at least they stopped the pain. "Things will never be the same now, Toby..."

She cried, thinking the world would stop moving because of her abominable actions and took some Valium. Molly was fully aware of what she had done, she was afraid and worried, but maybe she should have felt guiltier. Maggie hadn't been a good person and although killing her hadn't been necessary, it had been justified.

With that thought in her mind Monday arrived, the tears dried and the world kept moving.

* * *

The morgue was quite, as usual, the dead weren't actually the talkative type.

She started the systematic process of cuting body parts and organs, all put in labeled plastic jars. In another circumstances, Molly would have bothered to remember the name of the seventeen years old girl who laid dead while she took her innards out, but she was too focused on the blood on her hands. They were clean now, she had cleaned them with alcohol and soap and disinfectant and yet, she could still feel the blood. She could smell it and feel it's weight.

A pill bottle of Valium was hidden on her pocket, John didn't notice, Sherlock would have if he ever laid his eyes on her. They invited her to their Christmas dinner and when they left Molly felt empty again. Stanford went to see her at lunchtime, he was smiling like a fool. "Hello, Molly. Sorry to bother but there is this man outside who says he has something for you."

If it wasn't for the medication she was taking Molly would have been terrified, and she was, under all that numbness she was afraid. Maybe it was one of Jim's men, she owed him a big one after what he had done for her. Or maybe it was Lestrade with his boys, ready to send her to Scotland Yard for questioning about Maggie Lewis' disappearance. But when Molly stepped outside she saw it was neither. A man, a couple of years younger, with a mischievous smile on his freckled face, stood there with a bouquet of red roses, like blood.

"You must be Molly Hooper. These roses are for you, I need you to sign here." Who was this guy? He had gren eyes and a little smile, like the one of a child who is having fun causing trouble. His messy hair was light brown and he was standing there as if he didn't take his job seriously. Molly signed and took the flowers, there wasn't a note. "Who sent them?"

"I don't know, they didn't say their name." He was smiling childishly, without bothering to hide his interest in her. The roses in her hands were so red Molly could have mistaken them for blood, she was starting to have another headache. "I'm Peter, by the way. Like _Peter Pan_."

"Molly. But you already know that." She said. She should have paid more attention to details, she really should. A waterproof phone on his pocket, two packs of cigarettes, ripped jeans and Vans shoes, a mark on his finger where a ring used to be, and, of course, the most obvious detail, Peter was only interested in her because somebody else was interested in her. At this point, Molly wasn't oblivious to the warning signs, she was just consciously ignoring them. "I should go back inside."

"Yes, yes. Sure. Uhm, here's my phone number. If you ever -I don't know- want to have a coffee with me or something." He left after that but Molly spent a few more minutes outside with the bouquet of flowers and with Peter's phone number written on her hand. The dead young girl was waiting for her inside, before putting some latex gloves on Molly stared at the almost unintelligible phone number with hesitation. Maybe it was the medication or the unbearable stress she was feeling after what had happened on Friday night but she made the awful decision to keep his phone number. After all not all the men she fell for would end up being sociopaths, would they?

She took her phone out of her pocket and added his phone number, Molly bit her lip while typing his name.

 _Peter Pan_.

* * *

There must be something comforting about number three, people always give up after three. Three dates with Jim, three weeks after Maggie Lewis' murder, three coffee dates with Peter. He was nice and sweet, maybe too childish and immature but that only seemed to fit her nickname for him. Peter Pan, the boy who never grows up.

Besides the anxiolytics and the sleeping pills Molly was now taking antidepressants too, she had started taking them after the Christmas dinner at Baker Street. She had found a psychiatrist who didn't bother to ask many questions before prescripting pills. The side effects of everything she was taking were horrible, headaches, nightmares of which she couldn't wake up, apathy, lack of energy... But anything was better than having to deal with what she had done.

At the Christmas dinner she had been so desperate. She had wanted Sherlock to look at her and realize that fancy dress and all that make-up she was wearing was just to pretend she was fine, she was not. God, she was so far from fine. But Sherlock was so blind. And instead of noticing how desperate Molly was, how numb and dead she felt, Sherlock had just looked at her red lipstick and insulted her. That night Molly had wanted to kill herself.

Obviously, she didn't, otherwise she wouldn't be on the tube now heading towards Oxford Street where Peter was waiting for her. She had lost weight and she had started to wear makeup daily to hide te bags under her eyes. Peter didn't notice this when he saw her, he just smiled like a child and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's go, I want to show you the shop where I work."

Molly was surprised anyone would hire someone like Peter, he never behaved like an adult and he was oblivious to his responsibilities, he still lived with his parents and he only worked when he felt like it. She wasn't paying attention to what he was saying, it didn't seem important. "-and since I don't know where my boss is I can handle the shop however I like. It's nothing against her it's just I don't like being told what to do."

"Why are you going out with him, Molly? He's not good for you." That's what Willa would say if she saw her with Peter, but given the circumstances Molly thought Willa would have been more worried about her recently murdered daughter. She took some Valium when Peter wasn't looking, she had grown so used to the pills now Molly couldn't imagine living without them.

"Here we are." Peter said. Molly stopped daydreaming and looked at the little shop in front of her, her heart skipped a beat, she couldn't even breath. She looked at the sign on top of the shop overwhelmed by fear. Written on Times New Roman there were red letters on a white egg background, and together they spelt:

 _Maggie's_ _Little Florist's Shop_

* * *

It was two a.m., Molly had taken too many pills without having eaten anything so she had ended up vomiting them, she had been retching for twenty minutes until she was able to vomit. The tension her body had been through while poking made her have some tiny red dots around her eyes, they didn't hurt but she looked even more sick than before. If that was even possible.

She sat on the bathroom floor and cried. Someone was calling her, she didn't bothered to answer her phone. Meena had tried to help her, she had been the only one to notice there was something wrong with her, like rotten meat on the bottom of the fridge long since forgotten. Nobody else, not even the great Sherlock Holmes, had truly _seen_ her. But why would they, she didn't matter, she didn't count. Everyday she took more and more pills, everyday she tried to forget what she had done and everyday she felt more dead than alive, and if one day she didn't woke up, if one day it was her body the one being cut open in the morgue. No-one would care, they wouldn't even notice. But she couldn't die, she had to take care of Toby.

She fell asleep on the bathroom floor and she didn't have any dreams, only nightmares. In those it was Maggie who killed her and not the other way around. She was on the ground bleeding out, choking on her own blood while Maggie just stared. She knew it was just a nightmare but she couldn't wake up, she tried and begged but it was all useless. She woke up at four a.m. and decided to throw away all her pills.

She watched them disappear in the toilet. The anxiolytics, the antidepressants, everything... And in that simple action she found a strange kind of comfort. She was alive. She was alive and she had just thrown away all her drugs and somehow she managed to accept the fact she had killed someone without being destroyed by remorse. She took a long shower and made a decent breakfast.

Willa's voice didn't bothered her ever again but Molly found herself thinking about the defenestrated woman from time to time. She put some make-up on to hide the red dots and grabbed her phone. She had three missing call from Peter and a voicemail from him too but she ignored them. She was alive and for the first time in a while Molly was glad she wasn't dead. She changed her ringtone and went to work as if she had just been reborn.

"Good morning, Mike." She said with a smile when she saw him. The abstinence from the pills gave her a headache and the need to go out and find a drugstore but she didn't, she couldn't. Molly had finally learnt how to live with the weight of her actions, no pills needed. She didn't worry about Maggie or her body, Jim had said he would make the body disappear and Molly was sure he would do so. She was not stupid, she knew she had sold her soul to the devil the moment she decided to call him, and she knew one day the devil would come knocking at her door and asking her to pay what she owed.

But until then she would try to be happy. Maybe she did not deserve it, but she would try to enjoy happiness before it was too late, before all her friend knew what she had done and looked at her like the monster she really was. Until then she would enjoy every second of happiness as if it was the last, because maybe it was.

It wasn't until later that day that Molly finally listened to Peter's voicemail, what he said destroyed all hopes for happiness just like she had destroyed her pills. She had to sit down. "Hey, Molly. I need your help- You told me once you have a friend in Scotland Yard, -a detective or something- I need to talk to him. It's my boss, Maggie, she's not disappeared. Someone had killed her, Molly. -I'm sure of it. I've got no proofs but I won't stop looking for clues, If you could please talk to your friend and tell him to try to find Maggie Lewis I'd be very thankful. Call me when you get this."

Molly tried to control her anxiety, she tried to breathe and count to ten. She breathed in and breathed out until she could think clearly, and then cynically, she thought about him.

Peter acted like a spoiled child, he never changed his mind, and whenever he wanted something he did anything to get it. Like a child, he only wanted a toy because it belonged to someone else. That was when Molly realised Peter had never wanted her, he had only flirted with her because he had thought she belonged to someone else. The flowers, who had sent the flowers anyway? Jim could but why would he?

That didn't matter now. She had to stop Peter before he digged too deep. But how was she supposed to stop a spoiled prat who didn't want to obey? She couldn't. There was only one solution, if you can't fix the problem, errase the problem. She got up knowing exactly what had to be done.

She had to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There isn't much going on but I've spent some time thinking how would Molly react to the fact she had just killed someone. She's not a psychopath or a sociopath, she's a normal human being far too sensitive for her own good. So I thought she would start taking medication to numb the pain. I really don't know how side efects of anxiolytics and antidepressants work so this is just me guessing. I hope you liked the chapter, in the next one Molly will have to have a little chat with Jim.
> 
> Oh, by the way, I called the character Peter not because he beheaves like a child, I did it because if Molly ends up killing him he won't ever grow old. Just like Peter Pan.


	3. Strangers On A Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim likes trains and having little chats on them. Moslty about murder.

(1x03)—STRANGERS ON A TRAIN  
(wanna hear one of my ideas for a perfect murder?)

The rush hour was long since over and Victoria Station was almost desolate. Only a few citizens, the ones who had wrongly decided to spend ten more minutes in bed and remained there longer than they should, could be seen. Stressed and worried about being late. Molly was late to work too, but that did not worry her, she was on her way to see a murderer and a psychopath so everything else seemed unimportant. 

She was regretting having thrown away her pills. On the edge of having an anxiety attack, Molly stood in the platform, -just like Jim had told her on his call- waiting for the 10:15 underground towards Cannon Street. The train was thirteen seconds late and with each second that passed Molly was closer to having a breakdown. When the tube arrived Molly sat down on the window seat and hid her face on her hands. Oh, God. What was she doing?

Was she really on her way to met a criminal hoping he would be kind enough to kill someone for her? It seemed so. Was she truly thinking about ending someone's life only because they knew Maggie was dead? It seemed so. Was she going insane? It seemed so.

If anyone asked her to recall how the phone call with Jim had been she wouldn't be able to do it, she had been so terrified and stressed. She didn't want to kill Peter but she had to do something about it, so then calling Jim had seemed like a good idea she was regretting now. He barely let her speak. "Tomorrow morning, take the tube at 10:15 towards Cannon Street, we'll meet there."

Of course Molly did not expect "there" to be the tube itself. So when Jim sat in the seat in front of her Molly could have sworn her heart stopped beating. He was not wearing a suit, he was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and a very noticeable underwear, very similar to what _Jim from IT_ would wear. No, actually, it was exactly something _Jim from IT_ would wear. Was he mocking her? "Hello, dear. Have you killed someone recently?"

"God, no." She said in a whisper, afraid someone would hear them. Jim sighed disappointed. "What a pity."

The underground arrived to it's next station and the few people that were inside left leaving Jim and Molly completely alone, he had ensured it. He licked his lips and moved her body closer to her while Molly tried to stay as far as possible from him, he was smiling -he was having fun- and when he talked he didn't even bother how much he was enjoying the whole situation.

"Wanna hear one of my ideas for a perfect murder?"He said quoting a Hitchcock film, _Strangers on a Train_. He found the parallelism of the film and the reality quite hilarious, Molly and him were strangers nevertheless and the only proper link between them was murder. Molly didn't understand the reference so she just stared at Jim overwhelmed by terror, unsure if he expected an answer of not. He chucked. "I'm just kidding, Molly."

" _SOOOOOOO_ _!_ What did you want to see me for?" Molly flinched when he talked that loud, she was afraid something would snap inside of his brain anytime and he would just kill her. She tried to breathe in and out. Bloody hell, she desperately needed her pills. How was she supposed to explain herself? She tried the best that she could. "Well- uhm. It's just- There's this guy named Peter, and I- well, met him a few weeks ago. He's nice but I- I think he knows someone murdered Maggie."

"Of course he knows, I told him." He said as if it had been obvious. Molly stared at him in complete silence wondering if she had misunderstood his words. No, he truly had done this to her, what for? The fear and the frustration Molly felt were ineffable. She was angry, being angry with a psychopath with a taste for blood was not a great idea but she couldn't help it. "Why."

"Because I was bored and since Sherlock's busy I thought you and I could have some fun. I wanted to see what would you do, and you did _not_ disappoint." If looks could kill Moriarty would already be dead, she couldn't hurt him, she was harmless, but she wanted to, she really did. He could see it. Oh, Molly was so much fun. He kept talking as if he was oblivious to Molly's deadly stare when it was the complete opposite. In fact, It turned him on. "Well, I was hoping you would kill him yourself but this works too."

"What are you talking about?" The mention of killing seemed to remind Molly who she was talking to, so she looked at her feet without daring to speak loud. Jim's voice was deep and lacked of any kind of emotion. "You want me to kill him for you, don't you?"

"I- _Yes_. Well, _no_. It's just- I don't...know." This was not voluntary manslaughter, this was not a crime of passion, killing Peter would mean murder in first degree. And maybe she would not be the one to do it but this death would be on her. Jim smiled even more. "He's married, you know?"

"I- What? What are you-" He interrupted her before she could finnish, his voice didn't sound as if he was annoyed but if Molly had dared to look at his eyes she would've been able to see it. "Don't be stupid, Molly. It bores me."

"Just think, It's not that hard." He rolled his eyes. They arrived to the next station and the doors opened, he snapped his fingers and a man came inside with a bag on his hands, he gave it to Jim and left as fast as he arrived. Inside the bag there was all information Jim had found about Peter in five minutes, from his porn preference to what toothpaste brand he used. He read it out loud. "Peter Williams, twenty-five, married to Alana Payne and father of two boys. Had many affairs, the longest one with your _friend_ , Maggie Lewis. You didn't notice any of this? Are you really _that_ stupid?"

"Why are you doing this?" Stupid question, he had already answered that and Jim hated repeating himself. But he was having too much fun to be annoyed about it. "Because I'm bored. And because you have a _biiiiiig_ problem, Molly Hooper, I may have been the one to cause it but the problem's yours. Only yours."

"Now, are you going to kill Peter yourself like a _big girl_ or are you going to let _daddy_ handle it?" Molly didn't know what to answer, the right choice was neither but she couldn't do that, could she? As a child her mother had told her that when facing a difficult decision of which she could not clearly say which option she wanted to do, it would be easier to ask herself what she did not want to do. And Molly was fully aware of what she didn't want. "I don't want to kill him."

"I'm afraid that's not enough, dear. I'm going to need you to say it -explicitly. Condemn him." Jim was smiling. Oh, God, why was he smiling? Molly wanted to vomit again, she was crying, she hadn't even noticed when she had started to cry. She was weeping and almost begging for him to stop torturing her psychologically but he showed no mercy. "Do you want me to kill him?"

"Yes..." She didn't even realise that the answer had left her lips, it had been a whisper, almost unnoticeable. At least he was satisfied with her answer. Little and naïve Molly Hooper who wouldn't even hurt a fly turned out to be able tu hurt a fly, to step on it, to burn it and kill it. He knew she could be able to do it as well as he knew precisely why she had changed her ringtone. " _Good._ I'll let you know when it's done."

He got up and started to walk away when her phone started ringing, it was Mike wondering where was she and why she was not at work. She didn't even notice it was ringing, too lost in the conversation she had just had. But Jim noticed, how could he not when it was _Bohemian Rhapsody_ what was playing.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you, Molly Hooper."

* * *

She was at St. Barts when Sherlock truly saw something had changed in Molly Hooper.

He noticed the Valium she had bought on her way to work, he should have said something about it. He didn't. Her smile was a façade and she carried the resignation of someone who had just realised how cruel the world can be. Sherlock should have done something, but, of course, he was Sherlock Holmes and he had better things to do than to worry about the well-being of someone like Molly Hooper.

John did ask, but Molly thought it was out of courtesy not because he really cared, so she lied. They left not long after that, so Molly was left alone with the skeletons in the closet and the corpses of the morgue. 

"Alright.... Let's get back to work." Her shift was almost over when another body came in, really fresh. Suicide, but the wife wasn't so sure, he had kids and a nice job. Molly should have known, she should have known who was under the blanket. "Oh my God!"

Molly fell to the ground, she was shivering in pure terror. Peter, with his wrists cut vertically, laid there. His eyes were still open. Molly vomited in the closest trash can and she cried once again this time knowing Peter's death was her fault. What had she done?! She remained on the floor for at least twenty minutes, then, she found the strength to take her phone out of her pocket and call Jim. " _Hi!_ You've called your favourite psychopath, what do you need, dear?"

"You _killed_ him." Three days had passed since their conversation in the tube and Molly had been thinking about it every second of every day. That's why she had bought herself some more Valium, she told herself this bottle would be the last but she already knew it was a lie. Jim was watching how his right hand man smashed somebody's skull untill their brains stained the carpet. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Peter... Oh, God! You killed Peter." He snapped his fingers and his man stopped, end of the show. He had wanted to send a message to a special someone and, well, a dead boy on your living room usually gives a really obvious message. But because people were so stupid he left a post-it on the body: 

_Pay what you owe me_ :)

He kept talking with Molly on his phone. "Well, yeah. That's what you wanted."

"I- _Bloody hell_ , it's just- Why is he here? Why did you have to bring him _here_?" She sounded so desperate. It was not the first time she had to do an autopsy to someone she knew but it was, as a matter of fact, the first time she had to do one to someone whose death she was responsible for. Jim smirked. "Because this is on _you_."

"You made a choice and these are the consequences. Now go on and deal with it." Molly was crying again and this time her voice was shrill, sorrowful and numbed by remorse. She couldn't even speak nor breathe properly, she was having and anxiety attack and she couldn't find the strength to walk past Peter and grab the Valium from the desk. She stood on the ground, shivering. "I _can't_."

Jim smiled and only said two words before hanging the phone. " _Learn_ _to_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Jim mess with Molly only because he wants to talk to her but doesn't want to be the one to call first? Most likely.
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for your support I didn't expect people to like this but because you've been so kind I'll try to update regulary. This was the first chapter i planed when I thought about this fic and I'm really satisfied with how it came out. 
> 
> FUN FACT: Originally Maggie was the one Molly wanted Jim to kill but because I couldn't find a good reason to make Molly go suddently from "no murder" to "yes murder" I decided to add Peter. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this fic, let me know what you think.


	4. Glee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly needs a friend.

(1x04)―GLEE  
 _"Emma and Will"_

Nightmares usually end when you wake up. _Usually_. Sometimes they don't, sometimes when you open your eyes they have barely even started. Molly was crying again, an action that seemed to have become a habit. She was in the bathtub taking a shower and crying and drinking whiskey and taking Valium again. She had done the autopsy, that what she was supposed to do, _right?_ Molly had done her job with the steady hand of an artist or a surgeon and she had followed all the steps as per usual, trying to ignore the fact that the man she was cuting open was dead because of her, because she had wanted him to die. Nobody should ever hold that power, the power to take a life. _It was wrong_. -Jim would differ.

Was it easy for him to take a life? Was it fun? _Yes_ , always. That was one of the advantages of being a psychopath, he always had fun with violence and death. But Molly was just a mouse, -not a killer, not a psychopath or even a sociopath, she was just a little mouse who had made too many mistakes and now was paying the price. Someone was knocking on the front door, Molly dried her body and her tears, put on some confortable clothes and opened the door to find her best friend there. "Meena I really don't-"

"I know what you're going to say and I don't care, I'm your friend and I know when you are not ok. So I brought vanilla ice-cream and the first two seasons of Glee on DVD but looking at you now I think it would have been a better idea to bring alcohol." Molly wanted to smile, she really did. But smiling after doing what she had done felt offensive, Peter might have not been the best person in the world -an immature cheater who didn't care about anyone besides himself- but that didn't mean he deserved to die. And even if he did Molly hadn't asked Jim to kill him because he was a bad person, no, she wanted him dead because he knew too much, because he was a problem. She let Meena come inside, she truly needed a friend. "There's Jack Daniel's on the table."

"Neat." Meena drank straight from the bottle and Molly went to the kitchen looking for a glass for Meena, hers was on the table. This was all Jim's fault, he had told Peter about Maggie, he had sent the flowers, it was all _his_ fault. And yet, she couldn't really blame him. He had not pointed a gun to her head whe he asked her if she wanted Peter gone, he had simply asked nicely. Molly was thinking all of this almost forgeting Meena was there.

"If you don't want to talk about the elephant in the room it's ok but I'm not going to leave until we finish the ice-cream and the whiskey. How do you- I don't know how your DVD player works." She knew how the DVD player worked but she also needed to distract Molly so she pretended she didn't know and let her explain step by step how it worked. Glee had been her favourite show, for a while, now it was only a reminder of all the times Jim made a fool of her. Molly wanted to cry, Meena tried to make her smile. "Look, there's Finn."

"I _used_ to love Glee, you know?" She hated it now, but Meena didn't need to know that. She used to spend so many nights awake watching an episode after another, she felt stupid for having spent so many hours watching it. It made her happy, but Molly was no longer happy. Meena opened the ice-cream and started eating it, it was Molly's favourite, the one she bought when Sherlock was mean to her, the one she bought when she discovered who Jim truly was. Now she was asking herself who she truly was; Molly Hooper, _pathologist_ _and murderer_. Meena poured her some whiskey. "Yeah, I remember you made me to watch the first two seasons, you talked non-stop about Will and Emma."

"I loved it, I thought Will was everything I was looking for in a man and I felt like Emma, unnoticed, _invisible_." Sherlock was the Will to her Emma, that was what she had dreamt for months. She ate more ice-cream and thought about what would happen if Sherlock ever bothered to look at her before being rude or asking her to bring his coffee upstairs, he would look at Molly and ask himself how he could have been so stupid -so _blind_ \- and he would search in his memory asking himself if Molly had really always been able to kill, he would not be able to answer to that. Meena looked at her. "Is this about Sherlock?"

"Isn't it everything?" She chuckled trying not to cry. Maggie and peter were dead but the game had barely begun, when playing a game with someone like Jim there's only two options to end the game: make it boring -he would kill her for it- or dying. Either way she would end up in the mortuary. Meena sighed, she didn't personaly know Sherlock but she didn't want to meet him either. "You already know my opinion. I understand that you fancy him and all of that but you deserve better than a man like him."

"But what if I don't?- I used to see so much of myself in Emma and I'm embarrassed to admit sometimes I've imagined Sherlock and I singing and dancing like they do, but the thing is- now I look at Glee, I look at Emma and I can't see me anymore. Everything that has happened, everything that I've _done_... Emma wouldn't-" _Emma wouldn't kill anyone_. She wanted to say, she didn't, for obvious reasons, but she truly wanted to say it outloud. She took some Valium and tried not to have a panic attack, she needed to tell someone, she needed someone to know and understand why she was not ok. "I met this man, Peter, he was childish and funny and I fancied him, not like I fancy Sherlock but I did like being with him. He was nice."

"What happened?" Molly closed her eyes, she couldn't remember last time she properly slept -without nightmares-. She remembered the roses, they were still inside the trashcan she had forgotten to take outside. Toby had tried to ate them when Molly brought them home, they had been beautiful. She had thought they might have been from Sherlock, it was a stupid thought but people often think stupid things when they are in love. "He was married and had two kids. I didn't know. We didn't get to... - _You know_ \- but I felt so manipulated. And I think that's just how it goes, every men I meet only wants to use me, and the worst part is that I let them. Why do I do that?"

"Because you expect all people to be good, because you are a good person, Molly." If only she knew. Molly could imagine Jim laughing at Meena for believing Molly was a good person, he would be laughing at her too. "No, I'm _not_. - _God, I'm not_ \- I went to work yesterday and I, I just- He was there, Peter was there. _Dead_."

Meena looked at her -she was taken aback by the news- but Molly kept talking as if it was the weather, explaining what she had read on the report about his death. "His wrists were cut and he had bleed to death, they believe it's a suicide, one of his children found him. And I just- I did the autopsy. I _had_ to."

"And Emma- just look at her: she's good and shy and she cares about others and I used to think I was exactly like her -with the same awkwardness and all-, but I did the autopsy and I cried so much, but I wasn't crying for him, I was crying for me. I didn't care about him, I only cared about me. I'm a horrible person." She hated Glee because it was a reminder of the person she was, a person who had died the same night Maggie Lewis laid lifeless on the floor. Whenever she cried she did because she hated the person she was becoming the person who called a psychopath to fix her problems, the person who easily said yes to murderer. That was not the Molly Hooper she knew. Meena hugged her. "No, you're not. You're just human like the rest of us, -except Sherlock, I'm sure he's a alien. But the thing is, nobody is asking you to be _'Little Miss Perfect'_ , Molly, if you don't feel sad about that guy's death there's nothing you can do to change that. You can't choose what you feel."

"But I feel like I am not myself anymore." Toby sat on her lap and licked her hand softly. The episode was ending and the liqueur was almost over, what was left of the ice-cream had melted and now Toby was trying to eat it. She felt miserable but somehow Meena always knew what to say to make her feel better. "Maybe you're not, you've been through a rough experience and those things change people. -Sometimes for good, sometimes for bad- But you'll get over this, I'm sure of it, after all you're the toughest person I know."

" _Me?_ " Molly smiled a little, only a little, enought to make her forget for a second that her hands were dripping red. Of all the people she knew she always felt to weak compared to them -so harmless- but now Molly Hooper was no longer harmless and she would never ever be that again. For better or for worst. "Yeah! Who else would have the nerve to cut people open for a living? And you even make jokes about it -awful ones but jokes nevertheless."

Meena laughed and Molly found herself laughing with her, the second chapter of the first season was already on but neither of them seemed to notice. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah, I think I do..." Happy was something Molly wouldn't be in a long time, but she was feeling better and that was enough for her. Meena left everything aside and took the remote. "Good. Do you want me to skip until that episode about _Rokie Horror_ so we can see Will shirtless?"

"Yes, please." She laughed a little completely oblivious to the fact that at that exact same time a young man named Aaron Walker sat on an unconfortable chair on Baker Street and explained everything he knew about his girlfriend's disaprearence to no other than Sherlock Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had never watched Glee before and I've watched the whole first season so I could maje a good reference to it in this chapter and I can honestly say I don't understand the show, the only character worthy is Sue and it's because she's a savage. 
> 
> When I saw Emma i thought she was someone Molly could relate to and I thought Molly would have a crush on Will so that's why I tried to show how Molly has changed by comparing her to Emma.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, I've never expected people would enjoy this so thank you all for the support.


	5. Hotel California

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron Walker is sad. Like, really really sad. Sherlock doesn't know how to be a decent human being and John is annoyed. Jim is a protective boyfriend who brings a friend to Molly's house.

(1x05)―HOTEL CALIFORNIA

_"We are all just prisoners here of our own device"_

We are never only ourselves, we are a bit from here and there. In our souls there are so many things that are not even ours, and yet we carry them. _Maybe we should bury them._

He had his father's eyes and his anger, he had his mother's smile and her ability to bottle up the emotions that hurt too much, he didn't look much like his brother but they both shared the fear of being left alone in such cruel world. He had his first girlfriend's organising method and his economics teacher's sarcasm -none of these things truly belongued to him, the only thing that was his and only his was pain, _his_ pain. Unique and unstranferable. 

He went home and ate dinner _alone_ , the telly was on so he watched the radio channel where _Hotel California_ by The Eagles was playing ( _such a lovely place, such a lovely face∼_ ) while drinking beer. He cried at some point, then he fell asleep and thought about all the things he regretted -most of them weren't even his own doing. He regretted having shouted so loud -it had not been his fault he inhereted his father's anger-, he regretted the sacarstic commets he said to his now ex-girlfriend, he regretted loving someone as toxic as her only because he couldn't stand being alone, and he regetted keeping all his pain bottled up for so long. Now she was gone, maybe with one of her lovers, maybe with a new one. He shouldn't care and it shouldn't hurt -but it did. 

Maggie was a terrible person but he loved her -God, he wanted to marry her. So why did she never loved him? Why did she cheated on him so many times? Why did she got mad at him when he told her she should't open her mother's business so soon after her death? Why did she broke up with him? Why did she stopped answering his calls? _Why, why, why-_ He had gone to see a private inspertor that very same morning, people said he was a genius, Aaron simply thought he was not a very nice person to talk to. "Your ex-girlfriend cheated on you with four -no, five diferent men."

"But you already know that so why do you want me to lose my time investigating the disapearance of someone who clearly doesn't care about you - _I wonder why_ \- and who probably is now in Ibiza with three new lovers." He was not a hero -he never pretended to be one- he was nothing but an addict who would do anything to stop being _bored_. Was he aware that many people had died because of cases he had declined? _Yes_ -not that he cared that much. John did, John offered them a shoulder to cry on and Lestrade's phone number so they could call the police if needed to. Many did -but some of them didn't. Aaron looked at Sherock desperately. "I, just- _I love her_."

"Boring" He said and John looked at him as a warning. Aaron Walker was almost crying, almost -his father always taught him men don't cry so he would not, despite the fact he really wanted to. He felt so alone and lost. "You are not going to help me, right? What am I supposed to do now?"

"Well, suicide is always an option." Sherlock said with honesty. He was right, of course, but he shouldn't say it. Sherlock had no filter -John was his filter. "Sherlock!"

"I'm.... _sorry_?" He looked at John doubtful, not sure if that was what he wanted him to say. John didn't look satisfied, nor happy for the same matter. Aaron tried to hold back the tears while John did what he always did, offer him a shoulder to cry on and give him Lestrade's phone number so he could denounce her disappearance. He looked at Sherlock again and murmured to him to do something, but what? He was awful at dealing with humans and their emotions, dogs were easier to deal with and so were bees. "I will look into your case... If I have nothing better to do."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. It's just- Maggie's mom passed away, then her dad, then she suddenly disappeared that very same day, and now my friend Peter has commited suicide, I don't know what to do." He said with a shaking voice. Sherlock narrowed his eyes- too many coincidences. He would definitely look into it. 

While Aaron was snooring on his couch Sherlock was on the other side of London, looking at Facebook pages and social media profiles. Maggie Lewis had not disappeared, she had not left the country to get drunk in Ibiza -she had simply vanished. There was not a single clue, not a trail to follow. Nothing. He went to his Mind Palace where he tried to organize all the information about the case: Willa Lewis, Joe Lewis, and Peter Williams, all of them were somehow related to each other and all died in a short period of time. And then there was Maggie Lewis -who would want her to disappear? _Why?_

He spent the rest of the night smoking and thinking about the case without being able to understand why while he thought of Maggie Lewis he could smell in his Mind Palace the familiar scent of _blood_ _and disinfectant_. He should have known what it meant.

* * *

A week -maybe two- after Aaron's casual visit to Baker street Molly Hooper found herself passing out at work. Mike was worried but she told him it was the hot weather and the fact she had not had breakfast that morning- she should have told him the truth but she didn't. _Oh, well,_ another mistake to add to the list. It was the medication and the stress and the fact she had taken the habit of drinking alcohol daily, it was everything at once. Meena called her everyday to make sure she was ok and she lied every time. That evening she drank more Jack Daniels and ate some mac and cheese she had in the fridge and watched Glee trying not to cringe at the songs and the incecessary drama. She had locked the front door and yet she heard terrified someone opening it -someone who had keys to her house. "Hello, darling. _Daddy's home!_ "

"Bloody hell!" She shouted and Jim smiled. He was wearing a suit but the tie was loose, his hair was sightly messy and he had a two days beard. Behind him a tall man with a murderous stare followed his lead -he had blue eyes and brown hair and the body structure of someone who could kill her without much effort. Molly looked at Jim, then at the other man, then back at Jim. "Why are you here? Are you going to kill me?"

"No, don't be silly! If I wanted to kill you I'd have done so already." He was smiling so sweetly it made Molly shiver in fear. The other man, on the other hand, was completely emotionless -he even looked sightly annoyed by having to spend his friday night in that small and messy house. Jim told her to sit down and so did she, he sat on the armchair and the stranger sat on the other side of the sofa making Molly move so she could stay as far away from him as possible. Toby sat on Jim's legs and purred. "Don't worry, Molly, if we are here is because _we_ worry about your well being."

"I- _What?_ " This was nothing but a joke it seemed, Jim was having fun and holding back a laugh, but for once she was not the one he was laughing at. The stranger had been the man Jim had given the job to look after Molly and make sure she didn't kill herself or killed someone else without him knowing -and he had not been doing his job well since he had found unecessary to tell him Molly had passed out because of the Valium and the alcohol. This little casual chat with Molly seemed to be his punishment for it. "A little bird told me you passed out today and I think you should know drug abuse and alcoholism is a big _no-no_. Sebastian was _really_ worried, right?"

"Yes." He said in the most monotonous and threatening tone Molly had ever heard. Jim laughed and Molly found herself wanting to disappear in order to find a way out of that situation. "Emh, right... Can I- Do you mind if- Can I ask one question? Umh, who is he?"

"Oh, yeah, _right_. I forgot, _my bad_. This is Sebastian. Sebastian, this is Molly." He said while scratching Toby's chin, the cat seemed to feel quite comfortable in the psychopath's hands -the same ones with which he had killed someone an hour ago. The men called Sebastian talked again with the same emotionless tone. "Pleasure."

" _See_ , he's charming and harmless -I'm sure you two will end up being best friends eventually." Jim was many things -most of them bad- but he did not break his toys until it was the time to do so -until he was done playing with them. He wasn't done playing with Molly, he wasn't even sightly bored, so he would make sure she threw away all her pills and alcohol. He didn't want her to die too soon, the game had barely started.

For Jim, murder was _normal_. Just like breathing or taking a cab when you're late to a party, _normal_. Killing someone -ending a life- was just that, _murder_ , nothing more deep nor immoral than that. Governments did it, armies did it, so he was supposed to believe it was wrong when he did it but not when other did? _No_ , that was not how his mind worked. He could still recall his first murder -it had been so new and exciting- and afterwards there had been no pain nor regret. Molly, on the other hand, seemed to be made of pain and regret. For someone who worked in a mortuary Molly should have known how normal murder really is.

She flinched when he moved, she was shivering and taking notice of his and Sebastian's every move. Molly still believed Jim would kill her, but the truth was that he wouldn't -not because it would not be fun, but because it was Molly Hooper, the little mouse, the fool, the ignorant, _the murderer_. Killing someone as interesting as her would be a sin, _like killing a mockingbird._

* * *

Some people are meant to die, and that's the end of the story. They are simply at the wrong place in the wrong time and that always ends with their sudden and unexpected death. Aaron Walker was not like that, but he sure had been at the right place in the perfect time.

Before arguing with Maggie he had listened her talk about how her visit to the morgue had been, he talked about how Peter had called at the wrong time and about the pathologist, small and weak and _pathetic_. She forgot about her soon enough. Then there was Peter, he was not really his friend, he was more like the annoying neighbor you can't get rid of. He cheated on his wife, with Maggie and with many others -maybe him and Maggie had been made for each other, they were both selfish and awful. And somehow he had spent so much time with him when Maggie disappeared. He visited him at the flourist's shop and listened to him tal about the last time he had gotten laid. Then, one day, a man with a Westwood suit came in and ordered some roses to be delivered to someone called Molly Hooper at St. Barts morgue. It was unusual, that's why Aaron still remembered him.

All this pantomime ended with Molly Hooper. The pathologist who had done Willa's autopsy, the one Maggie told him about, the same woman Peter had gone out with for three weeks before committing suicide. He had a friend in the hospital, that's why he managed to get a copy of the autopsy report. And there was her name- _Molly Hooper, Molly Hooper, Molly Hooper._

The only constant element in all those deaths and disappearances. Aaron wanted to call the detective but he had no proofs that woman was involved with it -he preferred not to risk it. He made some phone calls, asked some friends, and managed to get all the possible information one can get of someone like Molly Hooper. Except, of course, any proper proof.

He was tired and depressed so he drank a beer and went to sleep. Tomorrow would be a better day, the day he would talk to that pathologist to discover what she knew about Maggie Lewis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murder won't solve my problems but neither will eating Doritos and drinking alcohol and yet, here I am.
> 
> I've got my college entrance exams in a week and I think I'm going to die. I've got so much stress and anxiety and my period just came and I feel like shit someone send help.
> 
> I'm updating this now because if I don't get a distraction I'm going to end up insane so here is the chapter, I hope you've liked it.
> 
> Btw, if you have not noticed the scent Sherlock smells in his mind palace is what Molly smells like (chapter 1) so it's his sumbconcious trying to help him but Sherlock is too blind.


	6. To Kill A Mockingbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly has a horrible decision to make

(1x06)—TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRDC

_"Click, bang!"_

Forensic examination by Molly Hooper. 7:42 p.m. St. Bartholomew's Hospital, morgue.

He was dead, but his eyes were open, and he could feel everything. The electric bone saw in Molly's hands made a deep cut in his chest, there wasn't much blood but the pain was unbearable -he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, but the _rigor mortis_ didn't let him even breathe. Molly smiled at him, she came closer to his face and then she whispered. "Wake up, Sherlock".

As if she had brought him back to life Sherlock started screaming. He breathed in, he breathed out- and looked at his surroundings trying to understand what was going on. It didn't take him long to understand he was dreaming, or better yet, he was having a nightmare. But _why?_

Molly had taken his heart from his chest and had left it in metal bowl, it was still beating but Sherlock felt terribly empty without it. Why had _Molly_ of all people done that to him? With what purpose? Sherlock didn't often dream but when he did it was usually a distortion of his mind palace, a place where he was trapped and helpless -it was Moriarty who always tormented him so what was Molly doing there?

"Why did you do it, Molly?" He asked and she looked down, she was holding back the tears and her lower lip was shaking. She took a bottle of pills out of her pocket and took enough to make her numb. Sherlock had seen her do that many times but he had never fully seen what he was witnessing now, who had broken Molly Hooper so much? She tried to pretend she was fine -she was never good at pretending to be fine. "I wanted you to _see_ me."

He tried to stand up but he was in so much pain, he wasn't naked, he was wearing a blanket - _why did he felt as if he should be remembering something important?_ Molly flinched when he touched her. "I see you now."

"No you don't. And I hope you never will." She was crying but she quickly dried her tears and put Sherlock's heart inside a freezer. "We need to hurry, there's so much that needs to be done before _he_ comes."

 _He_ , Moriarty -the devil himself. Why was Molly doing his dirty work? When Sherlock questioned her about it Molly just smiled sadly and murmured. "Because he asked me to."

"Enough questions, you need to solve the case." She interrupted him before he could add something. Sherlock had never dreamed about Molly before and he honestly couldn't imagine why his unconscious decided to make her appear there. He glanced at the freezer where his heart was and managed to stand up. "What case?"

_Willa Lewis. Cause of death, defenestration._

_Joe Lewis. Cause of death, heart attack._

_Peter Williams. Cause of death, blood loss (suicide)_

Sherlock felt his heart beathing faster and faster until it was hard to breathe, he fell to his knees and tried to crawl towards his heart. "Why are you telling me this?!"

 _Maggie Lewis. Cause of death, unknown_.

The pain stopped. Sherlock looked up at Molly finally noticing something dark in her innocent eyes. He tried and failed once again to put in order his thoughts - _Molly Hooper, heart, James Moriarty, four dead people, cause of death unknown_. He heard footsteps, heavier than Molly's. "He hasn't figured it out yet? _Oh_ , poor Sherlock."

Moriarty forced him to look at him, he put his hands around his neck and started strangling him. He couldn't even scream, tears rolled down his cheeks as he tried helplessly to breath. His vision was blurry, but he managed to see Molly grab his heart from the freezer, he saw the heart beat heretically while Moriarty choked him to death, then Molly grabbed a knife -and stabbed his heart.

He was _dead_ \- Moriarty hadn't killed him, _Molly had_. Before waking up he managed to hear one last word coming from him. "Oh, I'm going to have so much fun when you figure it out..."

* * *

Aaron Walker decided on cold Monday morning that he and Molly Hooper were alike. The same mouse-like features, the eyes of a prey, the anxiety and the chronic nervousness -and he decided that Molly Hooper was as innocent as he was, just someone who was in the _wrong place_ at the _wrong time_. He had been following her for a while now, just to be sure she had nothing to do with Maggie's disappearance, and he though he was so smart, sneaking around and stalking her. _But people like Aaron are never smart._

While he believed himself to be the hunter there was a real predator following his scent, a bloodthirsty beast that had seen him too close to Molly, and Sebastian wasn't going to neglect his job _again_ -Jim would make him pay if he did. He was in a bookshop, chewing gum while pretending to be indecisive about what book he should buy, he grabbed _To Kill A Mockingbird_ -only because it had the word _kill_ in the title- and glanced through the window. Molly was buying meds again, new ones with less side effects and a lower dose, it didn't help her with the pain as much as the others but at least this one would not kill her. Sebastian would make sure it didn't.

The stupid boy - _Aaron_ \- hesitated for quite a while before daring to go and talk to Molly, Jim had told him not to interfere, only observe. Aaron fixed his hair at least four times and smiled, opened his mouth, closed it, looked at Molly, opened his mouth again and closed it without knowing what to say. Why was he so nervous? He had already prepared what he would say in front of a mirror -but in front of Molly's doe-like eyes he was left speechless. She was the first one to talk. "Uhm, do you need anything, sir?"

"No- _yes_ , hi. Yes. Ehm- I'm Aaron Walker, my girlfriend, she-" _Oh, fuck_ , he sounded so stupid. That was not what he wanted, he just wanted to talk to her and casually ask her about Maggie, nothing creepy. He would have scared her off, if it wasn't for the fact that Molly suddenly remembered his name and where she had seen his face before -Maggie's Facebook posts.

She was starting to have a panic attack once again, Molly was so tired. She hadn't intended to kill her, it had been a mistake – as it had been killing Peter- and she wanted everything to be _over_ , she wanted Jim to leave her alone -no more pills, no more alcohol, no more murderes sitting in her living room, no more Maggie Lewis. She was done with her, and she was done with Jim. "Don't talk to me- I'm done, I'm not doing it again. Tell _him_ to leave me alone and run a far as you can from the man who told you to come and talk to me."

Aaron couldn't understand what was going on, how could he? It was his choice and his ' _intelligence_ ' what had brought him to Molly Hooper, he had not been used against Molly, _not like Peter_ -of course Molly had no way of knowing that. She should have noticed the confused look on his face, but she ran away too fast to notice.

He remained there for a minute or two unsure of what had just happened -now he was sure something _very_ bad had happened to Maggie. He needed to find Sherlock Holmes, he needed to tell him about the strange Molly Hooper and their odd conversation, he needed to discover the truth -sadly, he would die before having the chance of knowing what had happened to his girlfriend. He was walking back home when a car stopped besides him. "Hey, mate."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" He asked the stranger in the car, that day was just getting weirder with every second. The man, very threateningly muscular with the complexion of a soldier, had a recently purchased book -To Kill A Mockingbird, _obviously_ \- on the passenger's seat and his knuckles were bruised. Aaron didn't want to be anywhere near that man but he was afraid of what he would do to him if he dared to cross him. The stranger smiled. "No, you don't know me. But you look like you need a ride."

* * *

All the locks had been changed since Jim's last visit, not that it would stop him from getting inside her house again, but it did give her a fake feeling of safety - _it helped her sleep at night._ When she got inside her house she locked all the doors and windows and made sure there was no-one inside, Toby saw her walk around the living room hysterically from the commodity of the couch. 

Of course, Molly knew Sebastian was following him every day, if she had not spotted him before it was because it's easier to find something when you know what you are looking for -and a man like Sebastian wasn't actually forgettable. But she had not noticed Aaron, maybe because he was like a mouse, maybe because he wasn't actually a threat -she didn't know for sure. She just felt stupid for believing she was finally free -she would never be free, she had made a deal with the devil and would pay the price for all eternity.

Out of the three of them - _Maggie, Peter, and Aaron-_ se hoped Aaron would manage to survive. Not because she cared personally about his well-being but because he was a good person, _unlike_ Maggie, _unlike_ Peter. Aaron was just like her, a mouse who had made the mistake of walking among wolves.

This time Jim bothered to knock, which was maybe even more terrifying than finding him casually in her home. Molly hesitated, her hands were shaking, and Willa's voice tried to calm her down, but Molly could only see her smashed head and hear the dreadful silence after the knock. Then, Molly decided it was better if she opened the door -Jim wouldn't knock twice. He was wearing a suit and a charming smile -he _almost_ looked human. "Hi, _dear_ , get inside the car - _weeee_ are going on a date!"

Molly was wearing her pyjama which had the drawing of an alpaca on them and her hair wasn't even bruised, she had put her most comfortable clothes when arriving home -something she was regretting now. She stared at Jim, then at the far too expensive car, then at his clothes. "I- _sorry?_ "

"Well, it's actually a double date, I hope you don't mind Sebastian's bringing someone." No, _sure_ , why would she mind a professional assassin eating dinner with her and who knows who - _why would she mind?_ Luckily, she didn't share her opinion out loud, the fear kept her quiet. "Can I- _uhm_ , at least change my clothes?"

" _Nope!_ " He smiled brightly, it was disturbing. Molly got in the car and tried to ignore Jim's peering eyes. He was smiling, he was unusually happy - _and that always meant someone was going to die_. Molly bit her nails, scratched her skin, shook her leg, bit her lip -anything to distract her from the fear. God, she missed her Valium. "Why are you smiling?"

"Okay, you got me, this isn't a date -well, _kinda_ is- but this is actually a test." Jim licked his lips too excited to hide his eagerness. Molly should have been smart enough to realise what was going to happen, or at least to think about the possibility -but she was not Sherlock Holmes. It didn't matter what she did Jim was always two steps ahead. "See, the thing is- I've just realised what your problem is."

" _You_ are my problem." She said unable to hold back her tongue. Instead of being angry or annoyed, Jim was amused. 

" _Noooo-nooo_ , Molly, I am not. Sure I was there to _spice things up_ a little bit -but have I actually forced you to kill someone?" Molly wanted desperately to change the subject, she didn't want to see Maggie's lifeless body in all her nightmares, or Peter's corpse in the morgue -and she didn't want to even think that she had been the one who had killed them. But it seemed Jim had no intention of giving her the peace she desperately wanted. "Have I pointed a gun at your head and forced you to kill those people?"

" _No_." she whispered trying not to weep. He took a tissue out of his pocket and handed it to her with faked empathy, he tried to make her feel more comfortable but Jim's smile terrified her -and she had a very good reason to be scared. "See, that's the problem - _it's about time I do_."

* * *

"Oh, _geez_ , Sebastian -what did you do to him?" the room was dark and empty, only a light on the ceiling, a table with a black suitcase on top, and the chair where the handcuffed man was sitting. The man had a blindfolder on that was wet with his tears -he wouldn't stop crying, he wouldn't stop _screaming_. There was a disgusting stink there but Molly was too afraid to notice. "Nothing, I just tied him to the chair, and he _shitted_ himself."

" _Ew_ , -I'm not going anywhere near him, this is a new suit." Jim grabbed Molly's hand and guided her towards the suitcase, her hand burned against his -as if touching something deadly poisonous. He let her go and opened the suitcase- there was a gun in there, Jim loaded it and offered it to Molly. "Alright, _darling_ , grab the gun. C'mon, it isn't going to bite you."

She did as told, she wasn't thinking she was just screaming inside her head: _please don't kill me_. The gun was heavier than expected, she didn't know what kind of gun it was and her nervousness didn't even allow her to glance at it. Jim smiled again. " _Good girl,_ now I want you to _kill him_."

Sebastian took the blindfold of and Molly stared with fear at Aaron Walker -she had told him to run away, _she had warned him_. Aaron kept crying and begging between sobs for forgiveness and mercy. Molly flinched when he looked at her, _please, stop looking at her_. "W- what?!"

"Don't look at me like that. You just have to point the gun at his empty head and shoot, _easy-peasy_." Murder was so easy for him, so mundane and usual. Sherlock was his main entertainment, his weekends off -to describe it somehow. And Molly, well, he didn't even know how to classify her, at least not yet -not until she passed the test. She begged. "No- I, I _can't_."

Molly was sobbing and tears went down her cheeks. Jim rolled his eyes and with a snap of her fingers Sebastian was pointing a gun at her head. "Kill him or I'll kill you."

"Please, don't- I can't, I just- _please_." More desperate, but not enough to kill. She was crying, Molly looked so helpless when crying -he hated it, but he kept pushing her, looking how far he could go before breaking her."Let's make this even more interesting. If you don't kill him I'll kill everyone you love - _including_ Toby- I'll kill them all right in front of you and then I'll murder you, sounds good?"

She was starting to give up, he could see the fear creeping behind her eyes, the shadow of something dark hidden in those mouse-like eyes. "It's your choice Molly. What will it be, _him_ or _you_?"

Molly raised the gun, she pointed at his forehead. Aaron was shouting and begging, trying to break free before it was too late. He looked at Molly's eyes, the ones which were not very different from his own, and wept - _please, please, please_. Molly breathed in, breathed out, and lowered the gun. "I can't -I _won't_ do it."

Her voice was shaking but she was serious, no more hesitation -she would not kill Aaron.

That was the end, Jim was going to kill her. The certainty of death brought her a strange kind of comfort -no more hiding. But then Jim laughed satisfied and amused. " _Ohhhh_ , you are _SO_ much fun!"

"Sebastian, why don't you take care of our good friend Aaron, mh?" He added, Sebastian nodded and untied Aaron forcing him to get up -his pants were stained brown- and he pointed the gun at the back of his head while leading him far away. His body would be found two weeks later.

Little mousy Molly knew it was the end. She wanted to cry, she wanted to poke, she wanted all the pain to be gone. But Jim wasn't done with her, not yet. She whispered afraid to meet his eyes. "Are you- are you going to kill me?"

" _Nah_ , I don't think so." He was smiling -why was he smiling? What was so funny? He fixed his tie and wandered around. "I just wanted to prove a point."

"Prove a point? Wha- I don't understand." What kind of sick game was that? Giving her a gun, making her cry until she couldn't breathe, trying to force her to take another life -this one while being completely aware she was doing so. She was clueless, Jim thought it was cute to see her so lost. He put his hands on his pockets and walked around her -like a hunter- and then proceded to explain. "You know how easy it'd be to make Sherlock kill someone? It's as easy as threatening _Johnny boy_ , and the soldier -well, he's even more susceptible to manipulation. The police officer - _same thing_ , the housekeeper - _same thing_. All of them could murder someone given the right stimuli, all of them except _you_."

"I cannot force you into slaughtering someone -as you've perfectly proven today. I can't force you, _you killed them because you wanted them dead._ " As soon as those words left his lips Molly felt them stabbing her heart. _No, no, no_ -that couldn't be right, she would never want to kill anyone, _right?_

"It was a mistake! I didn't want to kill them." Her heart was beating so fast she could hear it, she could barely breath and her vision became blurry. Jim stopped and came closer to her, held her chin in his hand and dried her tears. "But you _did_ want them dead - _same thing_."

Molly's eyes darkened. _Yes_ , a small part of her had wanted them dead -she couldn't even deny it. She had wanted Maggie gone because she had killed Willa, because she chewed gum too loud, because she was a bully and because she had threatened her. She had wanted Peter dead because he was a cheater and a liar, because he only liked things that were not his to take. She had wanted them dead -but never she'd have wanted to be _the one_ killing them.

But in the end that had not mattered, the fear she had experienced had forced her to chose and she had chosen to kill them - _the same way she had chosen not to kill Aaron._ As the realisation sank in something sparked in her eyes, the realisation she hand committed and abominable act because she had wanted to -it was like watching a _Mockingbird_ slaughter those who had dared to try to kill them. 

Maybe Jim was manipulating her, making her believe it was her own bloodlust the one which had caused those deaths, maybe it was all part of his wicked game. In the end that did not matter. Her throat was sore."If I-"

"If I killed them because I wanted to" She continued once she found her voice, she was so tired. Molly finally found the courage to look directly at Jim -he was observing her, waiting for her to _break_. She hated him so much. But Molly wasn't going to break like a doll, she was no longer a little mouse. The gun felt so heavy on her hands, she licked her lips. "Then what's stopping me from killing you?"

_Click, bang!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you've liked this chapter, I'm so sorry for not updating earlier it's just so much has been going one.
> 
> Quick update on my life even if no-one cares, I did my University entrance exams, I got accepted in the career I wanted and I am currently working from home bc my brother has Covid. Anyway, it also turns out my brother is actually my sister so that's a surprise. We're now thinking about how to tell my father without causing him a crisis.
> 
> Back to the story, I wanted Sherlock to notice small things but without seeing the full picture, only his subconscious can truly see Molly. That is because even if he claims he wants to solve every mystery, he doesn't want to know the truth about Molly -so his subconscious stops him from analysis Molly enough to discover the truth.
> 
> Jim is playing with Molly, he knows a small part of her wanted Peter and Maggie dead but he also knows that is not the reason why she killed them, he just lies because he thinks it's funnier. Of course he hadn't expected Molly to shot him.
> 
> At the beginning I hadn't planned to kill Aaron because he's a good person who was trapped in a really toxic relationship, but it's the only way to leave Maggie's death completely behind. Maggie's parent's are dead, Peter is dead, Aaron is dead -now there's no-one to stick their nose into their deaths. Except Sherlock, obviously.
> 
> I hope you liked it, kudos and comments are appreciated.


	7. Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disgusting coffee and waiting rooms

(2x01)—POTENTIAL

_"I wanted to kill you"_

The place smelled of blood and hand sanitizer, but not the kind Molly liked. It was familiar and yet so strange. The empty walls, the uncomfortable chairs, the medical devices and the white coats -it was just like the morgue. But then why was there so much noise?

"Here, drink. It'll make you feel better." Sebastian said offering her a coffee he had bought at a vending machine, it was probably disgusting but Molly took it anyway. It made her feel better to have something on her hands -something that wasn't a _gun_ \- it distracted her from the blood under her fingernails.

Sebastian sat besides her in that noisy waiting room, they had been there for two hours now -no news yet. He knew better than to try to make small talk, and he also hated it so he leaned back and closed his eyes resting for a while.

Molly couldn't rest, not after what had happened. This was nothing like killing Maggie had felt like -murdering her had been a blurry picture, undefined edges and fear, too much fear. _Killing Maggie had been like drowning, shooting Jim had been like finally breathing air again_ -but she didn't dare to say that out loud. It was a thought far too heartless.

She wasn't dead _yet_ , but that wasn't necessary a good thing. Sebastian probably hadn't killed her because he was waiting for orders like the loyal dog he was.

The nurses were having their lunch break so they probably wouldn't have any news for at least a couple more hours. Molly drank her coffee -even if she hated it- while realising she felt _alive_ , maybe for the first time in her life.

It was a strange feeling, not a good one, but not a bad one either. It had come with the adrenaline and the recoil that had probably sprained her wrist. The noise wasn't too loud because the gun had a silencer, the recoil had been the worst part of shooting the gun - _Oh, yeah_ , and Jim bleeding out on the floor was also bad.

She was in shock but not as much as she had been the first time, killing Maggie had been chaotic, unexpected. But while shooting Jim she had been completely aware of what she was doing and the consequences of her actions. Molly hadn't wanted Jim to die -she _just wanted to kill him._

She held the plastic coffee cup so hard she was hurting her fingers, punishing even more her sprained wrist. Her clothes were still covered in blood - _Jim's blood_ \- but nobody asked her out about it. Not even Sebastian. "Stop overthinking."

His eyes were still closed when she turned to him but he seemed to know what was going on inside her head. Did he also know the main reason she was feeling bad was because she wasn't feeling bad? Jim wasn't what anyone would call _'a good person'_ , and he honestly kinda deserved being shot. But that was the main problem, Molly was supposed to be a good person, and murder is unthinkable for good people -and yet ending a life seemed to be easier and easier every time. Molly hated that. "I just- I, I need some air. I-"

"Calm down, will you?" He was looking at her now, he didn't even look annoyed at the fact she had shot his boss. Sebastian's hands had blood too but Molly wasn't sure if it was Jim's or Aaron's -that was another death on her conscience. It was getting hard to breath, Sebastian brought her back to reality. "Breath, Hooper, just breath."

 _Hooper_ , he said her name, he hadn't said her name before -but that was before he knew what Molly Hooper was capable of. Sebastian had considered her not only pathetic but also useless, Jim would had agreed with him in another circumstances, that's why her presence had annoyed Sebastian. She was a _nobody_ , why would Jim Moriarty spent his time and money on someone like her? Even having the deaths into account she was just not worth it, Sebastian had met local serial killer far more interesting than mousy Molly.

He could see now how wrong he had been- because Molly Hooper had done what no other human being had ever dared to do, _shoot James Moriarty._

It wasn't a foolish act, Molly knew who he was and what he was capable of. She knew and yet she shot him, she at least deserved an award for it. Sebastian himself wanted to shoot him at least once every five minutes and yet it had been Molly Hooper who had dared to do so. That's why he now said her name -it was a name worth remembering.

_In case Jim decided to kill her._

"Hi, are you Mr. Moran?" Said a nurse with very dark bags under her eyes walking toward them while reading some medical notes. Sebastian got up and stood perfectly still, like the soldier he had once been. "Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, ok. The surgery was a success and he's now recovering. He will wake up in a couple of hours. He'll be okay, _Mr. Brook_ is lucky he was brought here so soon." The nurse explained and Sebastian thanked her. The soldier glanced at Molly studying her reaction -after all it had been her who had called the ambulance after shooting Jim.

Sebastian had only realised something was wrong when he heard the sirens. He tossed Aaron's body into the river and went back into the building as fast as he could only to find Molly trying to stop the bleeding while Jim just stared at her stunned. To be honest Molly didn't know if she should feel relieved or disappointed with the fact Jim was alive.

Sebastian did then what he used to do when he had to talk to young soldiers after their first kill, he lowered down and put a hand on her shoulder and assured her everything was all right. "You did good, kid."

Molly looked at him with her doe-like eyes eclipsed by a dark innocence. It was an illusion -Sebastian realised finally- she was not as innocent as she seemed. The way he had talked to her, as if she had done nothing wrong broke down her walls.

"I- I wanted to do it." She admitted finally. She had denied it even to herself, but it was true. Sebastian thighed softly the grab on her shoulder. "Yes, I know you did."

"I wanted to shoot him." Molly swallowed before and after the mumbled words left her mouth. She had wanted to kill him, even more than she had wanted to see Maggie or Peter dead - _and yet he was alive while they weren't._ But those weren't the words that left her mouth, she settled for letting Sebastian know she had wanted to shoot him.

Sebastian smiled -a kind smile Molly hadn't thought him able to show- and let out a chuckle. "Yeah, but to be honest, who doesn't want to shoot Jim?"

* * *

"Excuse me, are you Miss Hooper?" Another nurse said, not the same one they had talked to earlier, another one. He had dark skin and an accent that showed he wasn't from London -he was maybe from Manchester or Liverpool, Molly wasn't sure. She wasn't Sherlock and if she had as much free time as he did she probably wouldn't spent it studying accents. When she nodded the nurse smiled. "Great, Mr. Brook wants to see you now."

_Mr. Brook wants to see you now._

Those words felt like a death sentence. She couldn't even speak, it was Sebastian who broke the silence. "He's awake? Can I see him?"

"Yes, he's awake, his body is still weak but he's recovering well. I'm sorry, sir, he asked to talk to Molly Hooper and Molly Hooper _only_." The nurse's words made his eyes meet hers as if there was a silent dialogue between them. Sebastian knew Jim could as well kill her as soon as she entered the room but he hoped he didn't -he was starting to like the _not-so-innocent_ Molly Hooper.

She had to go, there was no alternative. Molly got up feeling her body heavier than usual, her arms numb and her throat sore. She felt like one of those dead men walking from those movies she hated so much -they weren't even scientifically correct!- and tried to think about zombies rather than the terrible fate that was waiting for her in Room 666 -was this a joke of the universe? Because if it was, it wasn't funny.

The door closed behind her, she hadn't dared to look at him -her eyes always fixed on her shoes. Molly could hear his heartbeat turned into a _'peep'_ sound, and felt slowly how hers matched his, only faster. She was, after all, terrified. No fear could ever compare to the one she felt when hearing his voice. "Hello, _darling_. Are you here for _round two_?"

Molly didn't know if he expected her to answer so she decided to remain quite. That disappointed him. "Come here, now."

She finally looked at him. He was paler than before and pretty much alive, he was smiling and his eyes had that darkness that gave her chills. She didn't know what to expect of him, so she prepared herself for the worst -she only hoped Meena would feed Toby in her absence. "C'mon, Molly, don't be so shy now."

He patted the chair besides his bed and Molly slowly went and sat there. There was silence for a while, when she glanced at Jim she noticed him wetting his lips -as if he was delighted with what she had done. "You shot me."

Yes, that was rather obvious. She had also called the ambulance but even if she wanted to point out that fact hoping it would save, her the words died in her mouth. Her hands shook so she hid them under her legs. "I'm- I'm sorry."

"Why the hell are you apologizing for something you _clearly_ don't regret?" His hair was messy and the bags under his eyes were even more noticeable now, Molly focused on this while trying not to faint. "Tell me- why are you apologizing?"

"Because I- because I don't want you to kill me." she said honestly as tears fell down her cheeks, she dried them with her sleeve as fast as she could before Jim noticed them, if he did he didn't mention it. "And why would I want to kill you, _love_?"

He wanted her to say it, to let the words out of her mouth. The things she didn't want to admit out loud, the things that made her a _bad person_. It was horrible, a psychological torture - _was he trying to break her?_ Possibly. But this was the beginning of the downfall of Molly Hooper, there was no going back from what she had done. Molly swallowed so hard it hurt her throat as she held carefully her wounded wrist before letting the words out of her mouth, but they weren't as much as a pleading whisper as they would have been before. Yes, she was terrified, but she was no longer naïve nor innocent. "Because I shot you..."

"You did, and it's the _hottest_ thing you've ever done." He said, he was deranged and what he said was disturbing but it was true. To see innocent Molly Hooper pointing at him with a gun -eyes burning with hate and rage, no regrets- and actually daring to shoot, it was such a turn on.

But now _little mousy Molly_ seemed to be back again, even if she was only a façade. Jim really preferred _murderous Molly_ , she was way more fun. Then there was a change in her eyes, the darkness that suited her so well, the rage he loved so much -and she finally admitted the truth. "I wanted to kill you."

"I know." Jim said with a smile. He would have recognised the bloodlust he had seen in her anywhere because it matched his own. They both knew what was supposed to happen next - _you can't wound the devil and expect to live to tell._ Jim slowly raised his hand, as if trying not to scare her. He put a rebellious lock of hair behind her ear and let his hand rest on her cheek. Molly wasn't shaking anymore but her eyes were locked on his. There was no more fear in her voice. "Are you going to kill me?"

He had thought about it many times, he even had dreamt about choking the life out of her, and yet he couldn't do it. It would be such a waste of _potential_. Jim stroked her cheek and murmured. "No, darling. _I'm going to teach you_."  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write this chapter for a while now, I hadn't planned to shoot Jim at first but life is full of surprises, y'know?
> 
> When Sebastian says he likes Molly he means he finally acknowledges her as a person, and not just as a person but as someone remarkable. In his eyes by shooting Jim Molly has become a legend
> 
> When Molly says "she didn't want him to die, she just wanted to kill him" she means it. Molly wants to end his life but she doesn't want him to be dead. This is the opposite of how she felt about Maggie and Peter because she wanted them dead, she just didn't want to be the one who killed them. And that's on today's character development.
> 
> Also, the end of this chapter links with Chapter 3 in which Moirarty tells her she has to LEARN, while here he decodes he wants to TEACH her. And that's on today's relationship development.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter I don't know when I'll be able to update next but I'll try to make it as soon as possible. Of course Kudos and comments are appreciated!


	8. Pride and Sentimentalism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim has the disease "a girl shot me once and now i'm in love with her"

(2x02)—PRIDE AND SENTIMENTALISM

"you are made for this life"

Molly liked death, she liked dead bodies and murder mysteries -she didn't like funerals though. They _bored_ her. Maybe it was because she had gone to too many as a child, she had seen too many dead bodies -was forced to see them- and had dealt with the boredom these kind of events often provoke on children. Her mother had liked funerals, they were a social meeting where she could cry and gossip shamelessly. Her father had usually stayed near the windows, complimented the food and drank until he couldn't feel his fingers. Meanwhile, little Molly had been told to be quite. 

She was never important in her parents life, just another thing they had to take care of -like the montage. They had planned on having her but only because that's what they had been supposed to do after getting married. Her parents loved her, but _sometimes love wasn't enough._

Neither her mother nor father had ever considered her important, therefore she had been often told to stop being a bother. She craved the attention, but feared judgement. She wanted affection, but was unable to show it without being awkward. She wanted to be kind but also wanted to be heartless, cruel, _deadly_ -so nothing could ever hurt her.

Molly cried a lot, but not in funerals, never in funerals. Her mother couldn't stand to hear her cry, and in some occasions she had locked her up inside her room so she wouldn't annoy her while she gossiped with her friends. Her father hadn't cared enough to do something about it. Molly didn't remember much of those years, it was all a bit too blurry in her memories.

She did remember her father's funeral though.

It had been a very nice day and Molly, who had been almost 12 years old then, was extremely bored. She played games while the adults talked: she pretended to be a police officer looking for a murderer, she read her father's book from when he was still a doctor, and she sat besides her mother -quiet but listening.

After so many rumors her mother had listened to and spread, Molly had learned to observe -not in an analytical kind of way- the people. She didn't exactly understood what she was seeing but she was seeing it: a fake tear, a hidden sob, a dirty look... You learn those kind of things when you are a small girl with no-one to protect you.

Her mother died thirteen years later, Molly found out because one of her mother's friends send her a text about how sorry she was for her loss. Molly had been affected, of course, and it hurt her to see how alone she was and had always been in this terrible world -But the funeral was so _boring_...

That was the reason why she didn't go to Aaron's funeral, nor Peter's, but she did visit their graves. It was a self inflicted punishment and a way to understand those people were dead because of her without having to deal with the fake tears and the gossip. Molly had killed them, not for money or vengeance, not without motive either. She had killed them for the same reason a wild beast would attack the hunter mercilessly - _people will always do whatever it takes in order to survive_.

She accepted that now, no matter how bad it made her feel.

Molly was very practical about death, she had always been. She preferred simple coffins and plain gravestones, and no funerals. It was just another body getting buried in the ground anyway, there were millions of them already.

Maggie had no grave -Jim had done a good job making her disappear completely- so Molly visited Willa's instead. She stood in front of the grave and cried.

Maggie's death had changed everything, and Peter and Aaron's had only made everything worse, because suddenly killing people had become appealing. It gave her a power -to finally be the one holding the gun- and a new perspective on things. She was not a serial killer and she also had no intention of becoming one, but she had the certainty now that given the right circumstances she would do it again -like a beast murdering another hunter in the woods.

It was a new version of herself and at the same time there was so much in her of that girl who used to get bored on funerals. If Molly had know Jim back then, she wouldn't have been so bored. Maybe neither of them would have felt so alone for so long.

Quietly, the clouds became darker and the rain started to fall while Molly cried. Then a man stood besides her, holding an umbrella for her. Sebastian didn't say anything but he didn't seem to mind getting wet for her. "Come, I'll give you a ride."

Molly didn't even bother to decline knowing it was a useless attempt. Sebastian leaded the way towards a luxurious car and she quietly got into the passenger's seat. Her clothes weren't too wet, just enough to ruin her awfully shiny pink jumper. Sebastian started driving towards her home. "You shouldn't torture yourself like this, it won't change anything."

It felt like a lecture, or a TEDTalk of sorts -an advise on how to deal with guilt and pain. Molly played with her hands and looked up trying to keep the tears from falling. Her voice was smoky and in every syllable there was fear. "How do you do it? How do you keep going after everything you've done?"

Despite the sorrow of her words, Molly caught a glance of a smirk slowly growing in Sebastian's lips. "It might surprise you but I actually chose this life."

"You chose this?" She was talking as if he was insane, and maybe he was. Maybe they both were. Sebastian drove carefully around the London cabs and never looked at her right in the eyes -he was focused on the road. But he was trying to help her, even if he wasn't very good at it. "Yes, why else did you think I was doing this?"

"I don't know, I just assumed you were one of those murderous children trained by the russian mob who only know death and pain." She said unable to think of a good reason why anyone would want that life -full of blood, full of blame. But then Sebastian laughed and Molly flinched because it had been so sudden and unexpected, and a little bizarre even. He was a murderer who laughed like real people do -he even seemed to know how to make jokes. "I'm not _John Wick_ , Hooper."

"The truth is I'm a rich boy who thought war was a game I could win. I hadn't seen a dead body before joining the army, I hadn't killed anyone either. I didn't want to die and I did what I had to do to keep that from happening." He was being sincere while his eyes were still looking forward, Molly had never seen him so talkative ever so she did what her mother had taught her to do -be quiet, observe, and listen. Sebastian continued explaining. "When I came back home I couldn't stand it, when you are used to surviving, normal life becomes too boring, and you find no appeal in groceries and paychecks. I chose this life, I am made for this life, any other life would be like death."

Sebastian finally looked at her as if he saw her -the girl that used to get bored in funerals- and was talking directly to her. He knew, just as Jim knew, that someone who smiles and sings ABBA songs while cutting dead bodies should be feared. And Molly Hooper did that on a daily basis. She shivered trying not to think of all the times she had felt dead in the life she was living, Molly wanted to bad to prove him wrong, to show him she was good and kind -she was _not_ like him, and she was not like Jim either. "You might be made for this life -but I'm not... I'm not."

They arrived to her street and Sebastian parked the car in a prohibited place, neither of them got out. Molly was silently thankful he was not mentioning her death puns, her liming for death, the way she had killed Maggie as if it was an execution -the way way she had shoot Jim. He didn't mention any of it, he just sighed and claimed. "You are, Molly Hooper, there isn't any other life for you than this one, at least not one that would satisfy you."

"I don't want _this_ life!" Her voice broke and she tried to swallow while anxiety made it hard to breathe. She cleaned her tears and opened the door not wanting to remain there any longer. Sebastian stopped her with a whisper, four words that made her want to kill herself only to prevent herself from hearing them. But Sebastian said them anyway. "I think you do."

Molly closed the door and walked towards her house forcing herself not to think about Sebastian's words, because deep down she knew that if she stopped and thought meticulously about it, she would realise the truth -he was _right_.

Deep down Molly wanted _that_ life.

* * *

Pride was his only mistake. He trusted his own intelligence so much he didn't even considered his mind might have been the one fooling him. Sherlock did everything right -listened to Aaron, started investigating, looked for clues- and it was only his pride what stopped him from seeing the truth.

His brother -in a rather hypocrite way- always reminded him he wasn't as smart as he thought he was. He reminded him because he knew there were only two things that could blind a brilliant man like Sherlock Holmes: pride and sentimentalism. In this particular case he was blinded by both.

Aaron Walker's dead body was found in the river, the cause of death was a gun shot -very precise- in the middle of the forehead. He had been tied up before being killed and he had also shit himself. When Detective Inspector Gertrudis Lestrade called him about the case Sherlock felt something close to blame -this man had come to him looking for help and he was dead now. He closed his eyes and reminded himself. "Sentimentalism is useless."

"Mh? Did you say anything?" John asked. They were both at St. Barts lab analysing the pollen in Aaron's shoes and other substances looking for a trail to follow. It was another death to add to the list: Willa, Joe, Maggie, Peter, Aaron. Sherlock wondered who would be the killer's next victim.

The death certificate had already been signed but Molly was nowhere at sight. 

She arrived somewhere around 11:30, with her hair tied up in a way different than usually and a little make-up on, soft, just enough to make her look prettier without drawing too much attention. She moved around the room too focused in whatever she was thinking about to notice them there.

Sebastian's words haunted her. All her life she had wanted to be a pathologist, she did not only liked her job, she loved it -which caused many people to be uncomfortable with her enthusiasm about death. She had never imagined herself doing any other thing, this was the only life for her -but now it seemed it wasn't enough.

"Molly? Molly, are you alright?" Someone asked -it was John, Sherlock's roommate. Sherlock's _definitely-not-gay roommate_. It had been a while since she had stopped considering him that, now he was just John, her friend. She hopped. "Oh- Uh, _yeah_. I'm fine, completely fine. Yes."

She had been daydreaming too much -about funerals and how shooting Jim had felt like- and had completely forgotten about the real world. Molly looked at her surroundings: she was at work, her hair tied up and a little make-up on, her wrist was bandaged and it was her 26th day without taking Valium. Her phone buzzed in her pocket but she held back the urge to see who had texted her, in case it was Jim or Sebastian. Molly took her phone tight on her hand. John was there, which meant Sherlock was there too -she really did not want to deal with him now. But for some odd reason Sherlock was unusually well-behaved. "Let her be, John. Can't you see Miss Hooper has a new boyfriend?"

She had talked too soon.

"I- I'm sorry, I have- _what?_ " It was true she had given that cute boy from the tube her phone number that very same morning but that didn't mean she had a boyfriend, Molly hadn't even had time to daydream about that guy yet. But Sherlock was sure about his statement, he looked at her again -tearing every little detail about her apart just for fun- before finally meeting her eyes. "You tied your hair different than usually, you are wearing makeup but not too much and you didn't know we were coming so it wasn't to impress me. Someone has texted you and you clearly are desperate to know if it's him. All of that without mentioning the fact you have a thought that never leaves your mind and that confidence women usually get when they've had good sex. Am I wrong?"

John's eyes widened. He looked at Sherlock while still processing his words, then at Molly trying to see if he was right. Molly felt her throat dry and with both men's peering eyes observing her, Molly started to get uncomfortable. Her phone buzzed again and Sherlock smirked when seeing her tense up. "I _don't_ \- I can't deal with you right now. If you excuse me-"

She disappeared through the door trying to hide her red cheeks and the name of the man who was sending her all those messages - _Jim from IT_.

Sherlock went back to work instantly but John stood there dumbfounded, looking at where Molly had been minutes ago while still trying to understand Molly not only had sex, but she also apparently had a boyfriend. He frowned and looked at Sherlock. "What did just happen?"

"I just said it, Molly has a boyfriend -let's hope this one doesn't turn out to be a homicidal psychopath." He said while studying some polen from a crime scene. Sherlock knew it was rude to randomly analyse his friends (John had taught him that) but in this case he needed to do it, he needed to be sure his recent nightmares had been just pure nonsense -if he closed his eyes he could still imagine his heart beating in Molly's hands while she stabbed it. "It's either a boyfriend or she's got the _killer's confidence?_ "

"The killer's confidence? What's that?" John asked as he sat down, still looking at the place where Molly had been while feeling uneasy. He looked at Sherlock, he had been analysing the same pollen sample for ten minutes now -that had never happened before. He was as tense as he was, as if both knew something was wrong. Sherlock kept pretending to study the pollen when he answered. "It's a pathological profile. The first murders of a serial killer are sloppy, sometimes even accidental, but as they kill more they get more comfortable. They make their own design, leave their signature, take a reward... It's usually that _unexpected confidence_ -that change in their personality- what you see in serial killers."

But that _couldn't be_ Molly. The room was silent for a second, then John laughed still shocked by Sherlock's deduction. "Yeah, right, as if Molly was able to even hurt a fly."

Sherlock nodded ignoring all the red flags and letting his sentimentalism and his pride take the best of him. His pride made him believe to be above everyone else, it made him think he was able to see every little secret people hid -he forgot his pride also made him ignore ordinary people. His sentimentalism, on the other hand, made him not want to even consider Molly might be a murder, he valued her -even if not much- enough not to want to see the truth.

If he ever bothered to leave aside his pride and focus on his sentimentalism the right way instead of wanting to erase it, he would have seen it plain as day.

_Molly Hooper was lethal._

* * *

If Molly had been a smoker she would be on her second pack by now, she would have smoked in her teenage years if she hadn't been so obsessed with being nice and perfect. She had been a loser then, and she was a loser now -but at least she was a loser who didn't have lung cancer, unlike some of her former highschool classmates.

Molly took her phone, unlocked it and went through her messages. One was from Meena asking her if she wanted to hang out later, the other was from Jim asking her if she was busy. She still had him saved as _'Jim from IT'_ because she didn't know what they were now and for some reason she was afraid to find out -to accept she was involved with a criminal mastermind who was also the psychopath who had manipulated her. She noticed a presence behind her. "You still have me saved on your phone as _'Jim from IT'_?"

" _Bloody hell!_ -what are you doing here?" She jumped, droped her phone and almost fell to the floor. Jim would have laughed but his ribs still hurt. He still looked pale and slightly in pain, but his expression was the same as always, a charming smile. "After all we've been through? Did _shooting me_ mean nothing to you, Molly?"

"No. I- yes, it's just- why do you care? What are you doing _here_?" Molly didn't mention Sherlock was also there, it was better if Jim didn't know. She grabbed her phone from the ground and groaned when she saw the screen cracked. Jim was wearing one of his typical suits, and he was leaning back on the wall, partially because he was in pain, partially because he looked cooler that way. "I'm here because I missed you, _darling_. No-one _shoots me_ the way you do..."

"For how long are you going to keep making jokes about what happened?" She sounded more exhausted than she actually was, more confident too. Sherlock had been right -not about the boyfriend thingy- she was starting to get the killer's confidence, and Jim loved that. "Oh, _darling_. Until you kill me or I kill you, whatever comes first."

" _Great_." Was all she said. Molly's eyes were focused on the door in case John or Sherlock himself decided to leave the room. They would see them, there wasn't anywhere to hide except the broom closet -and she wasn't getting into the broom closet with Jim. _Never_. 

"You didn't answer my question." He reminded her. Molly stopped looking at the door to glance at him. -Was he actually annoyed because she had him saved as _Jim from IT_? It seemed so, but why would he? Molly tried not to make a big deal of it. "It's just- what am I supposed to have you saved as? _'Psycho Ex'_? just _'Moriarty_ '? -how have you saved me as anyway?"

He wasn't going to lie, he liked the _Psycho Ex_ thing, it fitted his aesthetic. Jim knew about Molly's visit to the cemetery but he didn't know about the conversation she had with Sebastian. Her mind was still so affected by it she couldn't even put a filter to her words. Jim didn't mind, in fact, he genuinely enjoyed her sarcasm -it was _hot_. They both knew he wasn't going to kill her, not when he had so many chances to do it before and had chosen not to, not when he had decided to teach her. She was too interesting to be killed. Maybe some day -but not any time soon. " _Molly_."

"What?" She inquired. Jim took out his phone and showed her. "I have you saved under _'Molly'_."

That was so casual it made Molly feel sick, and for a second her confidence shattered. It reminders her too much of the time he had made a fool of her with all that _Jim from IT_ bullshit. That was one of the reasons why she hadn't changed his name, _it was a reminder not to trust him._

"Molly are you-" John said opening the door, luckily he chose to look first at the left side first instead of the right (where Jim and her where). Molly pushed Jim inside the broom closet and tried not to have a panic attack -where was the _Valium_ when she needed it the most?

"Was that _Johnny boy_? It would be rude if I didn't say hi, _wouldn't it_?" He said with a cocky smile, almost as if he was teasing Molly but without pushing her too much. He didn't want to break her anymore.

"Please, don't. I agreed to everything you said so please, don't do this, Jim." She was breathing faster than usual, almost hyperventilating. It was dark in there and Molly didn't see him nod so he whispered. "Alright. Whatever you want, _love_."

They remained in there for a while in silence as if it was the plot of a bad movie: the main character gets inside a closet with her ex. But Molly was terrified, her confidence had limits. Jim was checking his texts while Molly just tried not to have a heart attack. She glanced at his phone and then realised none of his contacts had names, it was all nicknames: _the ice man, the woman, tiger, the cannibal, the virgin.._. It was all funny nicknames, except _her_.

 _Molly_. Just Molly. Plain Molly. Two syllables. One word. Not even a surname at sight. It offended her and flattered her at the same time. She was relieved she hadn't gotten a nickname like _'the virgin',_ whoever that was. But at the same time she was disappointed for not being considered interesting enough for a nickname.

And that had been the case, at first. Little mousy Molly who was so weak and pathetic there wasn't just one way to insult her, so he just saved her name because it was a name stupid enough to describe her. Now having her name saved was a recognition of her worth, she had almost killed him -not Mycroft, not Sherlock, _her_. Molly.

Jim knew he would have died if Molly hadn't called the ambulance, and that would have been the end of the story. It amused him to know Molly didn't want him to die despite the fact she wanted to kill him, it was so contradictory it was fascinating.

Besides that, Molly's name on his phone had a little bit of affection in it. It wasn't like Sherlock's hyperfixation on Irene Adler and his obsession with calling her _'the woman'_ , it was far less complex than that. He just liked to see her name pop up on the screen when she called or texted him -as simple as that.

"I can't find her." That was John's voice outside. Jim had known the risks of visiting Molly while she worked -Sebastian had warned him several times- but he couldn't resist the urge to visit the woman he was going to mold into a killer. Jim was also leaving for a while -a month, maybe two- and he wanted to say goodbye properly and dramaticaly. He should have asked Sebastian to check if Sherlock was there before showing up. He couldn't let them find him with Molly in there, not when the game had barely started.

"Once again you see but you do not observe." Declared Sherlock, probably with the collar of his coat up and that prideful look in his eyes. His voice was close to where they were, closer than John's had been. "Molly is right here, John. The text she received from her boyfriend, as I have deduced, probably was a mere question about her day, maybe he even asked her if she was busy. When she left the room Molly came across him who had come to visit her because of that absurd sentimentalism couples have, and because Molly was embarrassed we knew about her new _affair_ , she hid with him in this closet."

Molly stopped breathing, her eyes were wide and if she had been able control her heartbeat she would have stopped it completely, even if that meant death. Jim was texting Sebastian while his attention was focused on the door, on what Sherlock was saying and on what the detective was going to do. John was even more confused than before. "Are you saying Molly is _inside_ the closet? With her boyfriend?"

"Don't make me repeat myself and instead pay attention to my words, John. You might as well learn something." He put his hand the door handler and Molly almost screamed, but before he could open it, John stopped him. "Wait!"

"We shouldn't force Molly to show us her boyfriend if she doesn't want to, it's uncomfortable for both of them and for both of us too. I think we might as well go back to the lab and wait until she decides to come out." John understood human emotions far better than Sherlock and he had often helped Molly out when the detective was mean to her. He was helping her once again, and without knowing it, he was helping the very same men who had put a bomb on him. Sherlock thought about it, decided John was right, and went back to the lab letting Molly finally breathe. "One of these days I'm going to have a heart attack, either you or Sherlock are going to kill me."

Jim didn't make any comment about it, Molly looked up wondering if something was wrong and found him staring at her. "What?"

" _So_ \- I am your boyfriend now, _uh_?" He said with a teasing smile. They could get out of the closest now but Jim was blocking her way. She frowned embarrassed and thankful for the darkness that hid her red cheeks. " _Ex-boyfriend_ , I broke up with you -I _shot_ you."

"You did." There was pride in his voice and expectation, as of waiting for her to go ahead and murder him right there. Jim held her chin up and for a brief second she thought he was going to snap her neck, but instead he kissed her _-it felt like an execution_. It was short but long enough to make Molly remember the taste of his lips afterwards. He smiled at her. "Charing cross, 15:20, tomorrow. Don't be late."

He got out of the closet without another word and Molly felt like he was trying to kill her in a rather slow and horrible way.

And yet her pulse sped up -it felt like an omen of _death_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought Molly was the kind of person who would be cold blooded when needed. She preferred to be a good person, but when needed otherwise she would do whatever was necessary. But Molly likes to be kind, and above all she likes to be considered kind, and when she's cold blooded she isn't. She had taught herself to be kind as a child, even if that forced her to be weak in the eyes of others. Jim not only forces her to be cruel but also he doesn't judge her for not being kind, he praise her for it.
> 
> The process of accepting what she has done and what that makes her (a killer) is in her mind just as saying: I'm done being kind, now I'm going to be lethal.
> 
> And while Molly is dealing with that Jim is fangirling like the supportive psycho ex he is.
> 
> Also, I've been thinking about writing another Molliarty fic which would be a Fleabag crossover, i don't know if any of you guys would be interested.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. Comments and kudos are really appreciated.


	9. Flowers will accept poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Jim's pov regarding the one and only, Molly Hooper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks, there isn't much about Molly in this one.

(2x03)—FLOWERS WILL ACCEPT POISON

_"it almost tastes like love"_

Manipulation requires affection, _as a garden needs water_ -a gentle hand takes care of the flowers, watering them with sweet poison, killing them slowly, feeding them lies and leaving them starving, forcing them to embrace the poison and grow with it. After all, the true evil man is not the one who kills, but the one who grabs something good - _something pure_ \- and poisons it until it's rotten.

Jim Moriarty just happened to be _that_ kind of evil man.

For someone so used to death, Molly Hooper had a very particular way of dying. She was very much alive -wearing that ugly jumper at Charing Cross- but she was dying at the same time. Molly, _miss perfect, mousy Molly, kind Molly, good Molly_ -was dying.

The woman she was now was someone else -someone with a _rotten_ soul.

The clock was ticking, a man sat besides her, people rushed without a destination. Nobody saw her (nothing unusual in that). The man looked at his watch. "The train leaves in ten minutes."

Sebastian was a knight in that game of chess, a black knight with bloody hands. He knew the game was on -Molly hadn't acknowledged it yet- and would do whatever was necessary to guarantee the black king won. Even if it meant lying to Molly, even if it meant conveniently offering her a ride at a graveyard, even if it meant waiting for a train with her - _even if it meant poisoning the water_.

"Why are we here?" Any insecurities she may have had disappeared when she saw Sebastian, her shoulders relaxed and she took a deep breath. She trusted him -as _foolish_ as that was. "Where are we going?" she clarified.

He looked at her. Big eyes, doe-like face, innocence personified. But _also_ \- bitter sarcasm, cold blood, endurance through pain. "To a church." he said. "But I'm not coming."

 _Jim wants you alone and helpless_ -he forgot to add.

She tensed, ripped off a hangnail and frowned when a single drop of blood appeared. Molly was nervous, because of the fear, and because of something else she could quite name. She licked her lips - _tasted_ _the poison_.

Manipulation requires affection, and a craving - _like me, love me, accept me, understand me_. Flowers will accept poison if no-one offers them water. "Will Jim be there? will- with me?"

" _Yes_ " The word left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. Jim had told him the plan -the ruination of Molly Hooper- and it was not a game worth winning. Despite his many flaws, Jim did not want to kill her (often), he just wanted to poison her mind, to leave her rotten, to make her justify the _un_ justifiable -to make her _kill someone_ for him. _Anyone_ , as long as she did it _for him_.

A white pawn turned _black_.

He liked her, as a lion likes a feast, as the devil likes a naive soul, as death likes tragedies, as poison _loves_ flowers; but he would be her downfall. And if he did it right, she might as well enjoy the corruption. She just needed a little push and Sebastian just happened to be there to make things easier. "The boss gave me this for you. Said you needed a new one."

Out of the inner pocket of his jacket, Sebastian took out a phone -a _new_ one- since Molly's was cracked. She held it on her hands and smiled like a fool. The phone was far more expensive than what she could've afforded, it was fancy and it was a gift _from Jim_ -of all people. "Thank you."

"Thank _him_." He poured more venomous words. Molly was not going to fall for the same trick twice -he had made a fool of her for the last time- but a part of her wanted to believe him, to believe he _cared_. She was alone, Meena didn't know the awful crimes she had committed and Sherlock didn't care -she _craved_ to be liked, to be loved, to be accepted and understood.

"Time to go, Molly. Be _careful_." Sebastian said while leading her to the platform. She smiled unsure and walked into the train with her new phone on her hands and her heart beating loudly in her chest.

Manipulation requires affection, and if one isn't careful, it almost tastes like _love_.

* * *

Cheap hope for the miserable, that was what one could find at the end of the road. A portrait of a dying man, very few candles for so many damned souls and a priest who cursed too much and enjoyed little addictions far too much. A world turned into a stage for his own entreteniment and his award-worthy performance of a believer.

He liked God. God was _funny_ -like a cruel joke. Poisoned hope. Other than that, the only reason why he was pretending to be a priest was because of the irony - _and because of Molly._

It was all part of the plan.

 _The game is on_ \- or whatever shit the Baker Street boys always said. He sat alone in his church -a chess board in front of him- and thought about what would have happened if he had faked a little longer. Would Molly had called _Jim from IT_ the night she killed Maggie Lewis? Would he had been allowed to poison her mind slowly as he pretended to be a friend? Would she had left the side of the angels then?

 _Maybe_ , maybe _not_. It wasn't a question easy to answer - _maybe she would had killed him instead of Peter._ He knew now she was capable of it.

The priest, Mathieu Lewis, was _the devil in disguise_ -like Elvis always said. The chosen surname for the character was a joke only him and Molly would understand. He analyzed the board with the coldness of a mathematician and the bloodlust of a murderer. Sixteen pieces, eight pawns -and a whole game ahead.

Sherlock and his _not-gay_ roommate were king and queen. White always moves first. The older brother was a bishop (a very clever one), Addler was the other. Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson were knights and the stupid police officers who bothered Sherlock were rooks. Those were the important pieces -unimportant to him- Jim focused on the pawns, and among them, the mousy pawn with a firm pulse for murder and a morbid sense of humour. "What am I going to do with _you, my dear Molly_?"

He already knew the answer to that. _Ruin_ her- as a cataclysm, a sudden tragedy, poison instead of water. Jim even had a _to-do list_ about it:

  * **step one** : help her
  * **step two** : isolate her
  * **step three** : earn her trust
  * **step four** : make her kill someone for him, willingly, _gladly_ -make her chose the gun, the knife, the blood that stained her hands.



Blood so dark the white pawn would seem _black_. Step one and two were already successfully completed and it had been rather _easy_ -killing Peter and Aaron, becoming her emergency contact, letting her get lost in her addictions, making her believe she would have been all alone if it wasn't for him.

Kissing her had been part of the game, as everything was. A game he had no intention to lose. He looked at his watch, Molly would arrive soon. He grabbed a white pawn and smirked while whispering velvet words that tasted like sweet poison. "I'm going to enjoy ruining you, Molly Hooper."

Both kings on the board seemed to forget only a _pawn_ can become a _queen_.

_And Molly Hooper would prove to be a formidable queen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Fleabag so of course I had to add a hot priest in this fic. 
> 
> The church is also a fitting aesthetic for step three of Jim's manipulation to-do list. He has helped her by getting rid of Peter and by always answering the phone when she calls, he didn't do much to isolate her, the trauma already did most of the job, and because only Seb and Jim know about the murders, Molly feels as if they are the only ones who understand her and accept her. That just makes things easier for Jim's manipulation plan.
> 
> I'd have done this chapter longer but I don't have the time right now and I wanted to do something before 2020 ended. This year sucks but at least it's almost over. 
> 
> The title of this story is not about Molly asking Jim to kill someone for her, quite the opposite. It is about Jim wanting her to kill someone for him, without a meaning or a reason, just because he's asking her to. It is about Jim wanting her to be dark and blood-thirsty -I honestly never thought it would be read the other way around.
> 
> Anyway. I hope you liked this chapter, Merry Christmas to you all.


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